I remember


I remember
That stick behind my eyes
Like broken glass
Sharp and vicious
As the day they were made.
I see
My coffee
Going cold
Beneath its spiral of froth
And your face
The absence in your eyes
Already thinking of something else.
I hear
Not looking
Eyes fixed on the frothy spiral
Your footsteps
And the closing door.
I remember
Only fragments
The whole
The happiness and the hurt
The awful waste of a love
Would drown me
In a sea of sorrow.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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