The only thing that's left are his remains.
The best she used to have, he gave away.
When all the best was gone,
he up and ran right out the door.
The silence speaks in gnosis
of the losses that he gained.
He used her up and wrapped her
in a sheet of pouring rain.
And then he threw it all away,
the raging pain of his departure.
She tried to gather back the pieces
of her life into a picture frame.
The doctors called her crazy,
while the priests called her insane.
He drove her there. She went too soon.
The outer cold is seeping into rooms
once warm and filled with family.
Signing "Mrs. Other" she discovered
that she'd even lost her name.
Gone too long. Too far away.
And all that's left are his remains.
The garbage men had gone on strike
but now they fill her up. That's life,
they say. They shrug their shoulders.
Then they go away...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .