Dead Ends…

The house with
it’s broken glass
unbearable cigarette stench
sporadic neon lights
coats on the bed – her head your face.
My mind a sprawling avenue
filled with images
I should never have seen.

Silence
born out of shame
when three is a crowd, not part of the game.
Forgiveness begged for like a dog on all fours.
Tossed frenzied words
somewhat laughable; so completely absurd.

The snow had begun to fall
long before the last guests left.
Each clutching their party bags tight.
Reminders of something –
I can’t quiet recall.

It clung thick
like new baked bread.
White in all its wholesomeness
accept where man, had tainted
the barren, fresh, virginal margins.
Leaving traces of tracks
each going absolutely nowhere.

 

Poppy August 2013 ~xx~

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