Two Months After You Left


I am vanishing incrementally
losing pieces of places
I have outgrown or
am tired of bearing.

Meals come
from cans without labels
eventually joining others overlaid
on the kitchen counter.

Eschewing the bedroom
with unraveled clothes
I sleep in a chair with half
empty bottles
that let me slip slowly
from reality.

Today I found
an empty picture frame shattered
at the end of the hallway

and dropped down
because it was alone.

From the forthcoming Shattered Anthology to be published by Kind of a Hurricane Press.

Update: Unfortunately Kind of a Hurricane Press is closed indefinitely, and the rights to this poem have been returned to me.

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