To think
there came a time
when the locks
were changed
on a door
I could no longer
open
to a home
with the coldest
of shoulders
it’s back turned
we were now
estranged.

One blink
no clue, no secret sign
the musical chairs
unchanged
I’m out of key
out of ideas
and tokens
ill-fit for shouldering
winds blowing
colder
twig silhouettes cast
on a tent, so, strange.

A rink
of icy breath, resigned
my skating notions
unexplained
a sense of self;
fractured, jawlocked,
broken
a phantom door handle
without the holder
can ghosts
over the threshold
be obtained?

Succinct
erasure’s bereft timeline
memories besmirched
and stained
wipe away
bleach
coloured tears
soaking
“Let’s just forget it”
is what I told her
but, there’s a room
in my head
where it stays…

… Always.

© poormansdreams