it's funny, how different
everything seems after
you've been left behind:
all the things that were fun,
just obstacles to be undone,
just clutter in your mind;
nothing to look forward to
anymore -- just the dismal
single click of the latch
of the door -- joy is invisible
when you've no one
to share it with anymore,
and sex isn't fun,
and you just want to run
in front of the next bus;
but you remain the dutiful one:
staying in line, waiting your turn,
marking time, ready for your urn.
January 15, 2009.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
1/15/09
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