Conservatory lights
illuminating as I exhale
cigarette smoke from a mouth full of words
I will never speak.
Something so easy,
an answer so simple,
eighteen nights since I last stood at the window.

The night sky is clear,
and everything’s changed.

The corner sits empty,
bottles untouched,
poems unwritten,
tears I refused to cry.

Cold air bites my skin,
tiny lights in the sky look down on someone entirely different,
and I smile.
I close the window.

… I don’t need it anymore.

(c) 2008.

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  1. Wow, this is full of emotion.
    I love your writing — it’s very raw and honest, often brutally. Every time I read one of your posts, I feel like I can see the world through your eyes. Like I get to see everything from another perspective.
    Thank you very much.


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