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Empty Walls & Empty Times

The hardest part of home, is saying goodbye.

By L.H. ReidPublished 4 years ago 1 min read
Empty Walls & Empty Times
Photo by Elena Kloppenburg on Unsplash

Shuffling through a lifetime of memories.

Packed up into boxes.

My past, my present, my future.

The Cowboy will never hang his boots up here again.

These things. They always happen at once.

The life, the wife, the cat.

It is gone in the blink of an eye.

Who is to say why?

Mama cries.

We all ache.

The cat walks around the house – looking for his perch.

As do I…

Nothing has ever been.

But what can you do? Life is a series of choices.

You make them or you don’t.

You live with it – or you don’t.

I miss her. Like I’m sure I will miss my home.

Like I know I will miss my cat.

Like I know I miss myself.

Change – it is unavoidable… People cling to the familiar.

Like an old beer bottle, stuck to the kitchen table after a weekend affair.

She sticks to me the same.

She will always be with me.

Like the pain I caused her…

Like the sludge I filled every crack in our love with.

The saddest part – is she, like the cat, will never understand where I went…

Why I am missing…

Why I am gone…

Fuck, I don’t even know. But at least I have a clue or two.

As far as she is concerned, the Cowboy is just kicking his boots up somewhere else, with someone else.

Not knowing – he is without himself, the very same.

love poems

About the Creator

L.H. Reid

Writing so all this living won't be a waste.

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