Confessional Poetry, Free Form Poetry, Life, Love, Pain, Poem, Poetry, Romance, Separation, Uncategorized, Verse

In an empty house

The bed unmade in the tenor
of our last quarrel, when my guilt
shattered against a brick wall

Like the shards of a fun house mirror
the faces bloated, sucked, thin
fat, tall, short, crazy, delirious, demented

I wonder which was the real me
the dog yet un-fed, the pillow unslept
the taste of your skin undone

From moonlight and orchids
evening mist and morning dew
my fingers that caressed your song

From the trill of the last free lark
the howl of the first wild wolf
or the flicker of an old oil lamp

Could I ever distill your absence –
your presence and all that’s lost
between the two, lost between us…

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