Gone

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  • Loss

    Gone

    It Friday, the end of work week

    Stop at the bar for few drinks with friends

    The old Friday night routine

    After an hour he decide to leave

    Pasting the store on my way home

    He stops to buy some flowers

    No special occasion, just an occasion

    Twelve bright yellow roses

    Got home

    Strange the lights are off

    Her car is in the driveway

    Unlock the front door

    He goes in greeted by this eerie silent

    And call out Lorene; I’m home

    No reply

    He walks to the kitchen

    Leaving the roses on the counter

    Checking the mail on the table

    Bills what else is new

    Open the refrigerator

    He grab himself a beer

    Headed up stair to see if she was a sleep

    Hit the lights in hallway

    Walk to the bedroom

    The door is closed

    Open

    Flip the light

    The draws are pull out

    Closet open

    Empty

    A letter on my pillow on the immaculate made bed 

    It starts off

    Dear john, I love you

    But I don’t think this is going to work

    His heart sinks in my chest

    Hitting to bottom of his shoes

    This terrible feeling overwhelms him

    Lowering his head

    Tears fill his eyes

    The letter goes on to say

    He was a good man

    And he did nothing wrong

    But she had to leave

    Lighting flash outside the window

    And it was like angel in heaven too felt

    His terrible pain

    It began to rain

    He crawls into bed

    With his shirt, tie and shoe on

    Pull the covers over him

    Hugging the pillow with her scent in his arms

    He cried even harder as he try’s to fall a sleep

    Suddenly he awoken to a sound

    Though for second it may been her

    So he calls out her name Lorene

    But only the cat came running into the room

    Jump onto the bed

    Rubbing its head on his hand

    He rolls over and when back to sleep

    Morning came sneaking its rays through the blinds

    Even thou the morning was bright and full of life

    He struggle to get out of bed

    Is head felt like scramble eggs?

    With a bad taste in his mouth from

    The drinking he done the night before

    His thoughts collide like the rush hour trains

    His heart feel like it was pull from his chest

    The pain unbearable it when all the way down to his stomach

    And then shot straight to his head

    Washed his face and brush his teeth

    Before making his way down stairs to the kitchen

    Funny how ever thing reminded him of her

    Even the small’s things

    Tormented

    He paces the house

    From kitchen to living room

    Up the stairs to the bathroom down the hall

    To the bedroom afraid to enter

    He turns around heading back down stairs

    Curls up on couch

    Grabs the remote

    He turn on the radio

    It was on her favorite station

    The announcer says a few words before the next song plays

    It was N-Sync Gone?

    The music played, it was like a knife

    Stabbing him in the chest and cutting his vain

    He crumbles to the floor on his knees

    Pounding his fist on the hard wood floor

    The song rumbles out the speaker

    His eyes swells as tears roll

    Down his face

    He hopes and prays the pain would go away

    But like in all thing time heel all wounds

    So he would try to pull himself together

    Alway fighting the realization

    That she was

    Gone.

     

     

     

     

     

     

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    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

    nitti’s Poems (16)

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