[65] - 11:12pm
Her brother went to
Take care of the officials.
The boy stayed at the
Apartment that he had rented her
With her polaroids
And 99¢ posters
And blue walls.
Her held onto her
Little handwritten notes
And her old books
And cassette tapes.
He played her favorite songs
And took down her paintings.
He surrounded himself with
Pieces of her,
Hoping to find
Pieces of him.
He drank bitter coffee
From her blue mug
Lipstick stains still on it.
He couldn't even cry
Because all he felt was hollowness.
He glanced out the window
At the town that didn't
Stop to grieve with him.
His heart sank to the
Pit of his stomach
Watching the clock turn
11:12pm
Knowing full well
Wishes stopped coming true
For lost souls like him anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
PoetryIt was a rainy day, in New York no less. One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop. One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment. short story #98 poetry #51
