It seemed that cat was a ticking reminder that you were gone.
Every second the hand moved was another that I would never have gotten to know you.
Your bed made like you were coming home any second now.
A Dolphin Blue '67 SS Chevelle would come cruising into the garage. Not a single item out of place in fear that you would come bursting in with a rage so mighty not even your father could handle.
But that damn clock was an infuriating reminder that you would never come home.
It's hideous smile carved deep into its face as if it knows a secret no one on this earth knows.
But it was never a secret that you drowned yourself in brown liquor.
A smile that taunts me.
A reminder that you're never coming back.
YOU ARE READING
Emulsion of Film
PoetryThe duality of childhood is a sharpened blade ready to cut into our lives with a readily available day dream. If we do not stop the invasion, how will we ever move forward? This is a collection of my thoughts and recollections of growing up. From s...
