View From Behind a Desk, With a Revolver

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
coming to terms with who you are and who you were

Submitted: April 03, 2016

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Submitted: April 03, 2016

A A A

A A A


View From Behind A Desk, With a Revolver

 

The man

sits at his desk

clutching the revolver

and despising himself

across the room

stands a youthful

more untainted

him,

about ten

or so

years younger

and his jealousy 

tears a hole 

straight through

the shirt 

on his chest.

 

Surprising even him.

 

So he clutches

tighter

to the gun.

 

Why am i doing this

to myself?

he asks.

 

And a blaze

of hatred

inflames and engulfs

the stone gray

of his eyes.

 

He knows

the way

his wife

is looking at him

ten years ago

from outside

the office window,

in the front yard,

where she wrestles

with the beast.

 

"She loves you,

not me...."

 

And he eases

on the trigger,

barrel towards youth,

and watches himself 

fall,

from where he stood,

to 

where

he

sits.


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