Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
So Don’t Coming Knocking At My Door 4 O Clock In The Morning Like I’m Some Booty Call
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
Can’t You See The Lipstick Stain On My Collar The Smell Of Whiskey On My Breath Or The Smell Of Sweet Sweat From Me Just Having Sex
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
So Many Nights I’ve Cried Laying Next To A Ghost Who Died And I Can’t Let Them Go Cause The Place We Shared Is The Same Place I Reside
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
No Matter How Many Times I Say I Want You Out My Life I Still Take You Back Cause You Make Me Feel So Good Even Though You Have A Wife
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
In Todays Age The Way The Kids Raise Love Is Being Treated Like The Plague
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
Year 2020
LOVE OUT!
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THE KID WITH THE BLIND EYE
A cry for help is what she heard as she walked her pregnant, bruised body to the hospital; a woman's son was just killed in broad daylight. Some people just stopped and stared while others drove past in their nice cars playing loud music with no remorse for the crime that just took place. It was as if they didn't even see it. This was a typical day for the beginning of summer in Spanish Harlem. The pregnant woman arrives at the hospital barely able to speak; after walking four blocks to the nearest emergency room, she says to the receptionist I would like to check myself in. Without looking at the pregnant woman, the receptionist yells, "NAME?" The pregnant woman replies, "my name is Melissa." The receptionist didn't bother to ask her why she was there. The receptionist must've assumed that the pregnant woman seven months along was there for pregnancy complications.
By Joshua Marsh4 years ago in Fiction
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