My Hyperthyroidic Lover

There were nothing but bones left
In my bed
And the whisper of love

A sticky sweet remembrance
Of our brief time together

I rolled over to smell your pillow
Quickly turning cold
Your scent fading
As my heartbeats slowed
And passion gave way to melancholy

I heard you pull out your guitar
Could feel the nervous plucking

I wished for a cigarette

We each have our own way

Of detaching

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About jonnealscott

Wife.Mother.Poet.Artist. View all posts by jonnealscott

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