The broken window

 

 

The window is broken, cant see the sun,

the day has ended, before its begun.

your glass is still there, on the kitchen bench.

I stare from the lounge, my heart does wrench.

the flowers that you bought for me, have wilted with the pain,

the letter that you left, now wet with tears like the rain.

Your keys are on the table, theyr're just a blur to me,

want to pick them up and throw them, but its just not that easy.

your dints in the sofa, where you sat last night,

 the food we cooked together, still in the pan before the fight.

I get dressed in an oblivious state, looking at your pillow,

dont feel the cold, or even the rain,

coming through the broken window.

Reviews

[Windy]

You can feel the pain through your writing, very sad. Windy

[Samuel Dickens]

A familiar feeling, and not a good one. Of course, I speak from the other side, but it's the same. A thread of sadness runs through this and some other of your poems that I read, but didn't comment on. I understand the dark, having spent an awful lot of time there myself. The "dents in the sofa"-- I like that imagery. You're a good poet, emz. Sam

[A Lost Man Found]

my guess, an experience on paper?? rather confusing but i like it

[defenestrator]

Somber and present. Makes me feel like I'm sitting beside there watching these two fall apart. Great and simple in the aftermath. You get the sense that everything that made this place a home is rushing out that window.