all night i sat up waiting for waiting
        while the hours bloated like a drowning victim
        in quagmires of bad television and cigarettes
        burned down to fingers that lost their feeling
        on every glance to the door’s unused change
        in a stiff dance of sarcasm leading remorse
        as though our silence had not created this new world
        which his absence kept filling with new loss


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One Response to Escape

  1. slpmartin says:

    Have had similar waiting periods in my past…so relate to the poem.

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