Poem 3, day 3: The Mess

The Mess

Night has returned.

The day I missed,

Spent hours with eyes closed,

Limbs wrapped in sheets that never were

To remain fresh for long.

 

And, still, I want time to pass.

The hum of the freezer lulls the minutes,

A sagging balloon scratches another,

Movement geared from nowhere.

The dishes are stacked,

The pillows askew,

A carpet of crumbs needs cleaning.

 

Not today.

The remnants of yesterday, the day before,

And the one before that,

Can stay for a while.

Maybe I’ll move on tomorrow.

 

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2 thoughts on “Poem 3, day 3: The Mess

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