Left Behind

January 31, 2012

your toothbrush stares at me
its bristles dry, like the tear-wells in my eyes
every last drip used up
nothing left
to feed the weed that grows
in the crack you’ve left in

my heart like a boulder
hanging in my belly
drags with every step
if it had its way it would
rolling and
but life goes on, lives on
so I stare back at

bristles bent
like grass in a storm
begging for the wind to end
when will it end
this swelling in my throat
and when will the trembles
leave my hands
that used to hold

your hands
I miss the most
your fingers though my hair
that held
our daughter
and the boulder
past memories of
your toothbrush


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