....Vacancy...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
En of the love line.

Submitted: July 02, 2008

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Submitted: July 02, 2008

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Vacancy
 
The last of your things lie dormant, not unlike my feelings, on the shelve in the now sparsely filled wardrobe that we chose together,
My fingertips twirl through your silk nightdress that feels empty, weightless like a turtle dove’s feather.
 
 
My eyes wonder up, down and around the bedroom were we slept, talked, argued and made love,
My thoughts swirl and swim; chase and chatter, the interior we picked for our perfect married lives, stare sarcastically back at me, all those things we had talked of.
My wedding ring feels tighter around my third finger, a nudge, a reminder maybe of times gone by,
Love struck moments, sweet moments, and moments of tenderness…of passion.
 
 
My head overflows, my eyes fill up packed with watery emotion, my brows and the back of my brain ache silently.
My eyelids feel as heavy and weary as my heart does, and my soul cuts away at my insides violently.
The CD player unsympathetically continues spinning the melodic dreary sounds of Coldplay’s ‘Trouble’.
 
 
I fall back in a heap onto the bed, place a hand to support my head, lookup and let my mind rekindle with my heart,
I say goodbye to my feelings, as I stroke my ego, mend my pride and stitch back my sense,
 
 
My eyes fall back and my breathing deepens, dreams calling me and dragging me in, I walk on by into my sleep, safe, from love, from life; no, from love, if only for now.


© Copyright 2017 Abram Rooney. All rights reserved.

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