an empty hand in the
age of money
this is what becomes the past
these are the words that can
only ever be
pale memories of the actions
the weight of too many moments
spent waiting for the
moment to end
of too many rooms filled
with cold silence and ashes
your girlfriend's sister
getting dressed and telling you
it was a mistake
your best friend's wife
on her hands and knees
her tongue cut out or
a knife in your throat or the sound
of someone's daughter puking
in the street
your tires slashed
by a man you've never met
his wife banging on your door
at two in the morning
says all she wants to do is talk
Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece