Loss is the sound
of a closing door
echoing
in a dusty room

the smell of
those midnight sheets
indelible in memory

that gnawing feeling
JUDGES from a sofa chair
and I, splayed on a leather couch

not even a mother could

you know kids these days
play so hard, grow so fast
never had a chance

suicide notes
and butterfly kisses
oh bittersweet youth

I am a canvas
empty
pathetic
adrift on a sea of second chances

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