school-mandated poetry: day 7 / triplet
2018-01-12

***

it's been twenty-four hours since you fell into my house hard
apparently my parents haven't noticed you so far
your footsteps are softer than when I try to open this jar

drooping dingy dark wings like a weeping willow tree, I see
at a loss for words when morning breath brushes my cheek softly
a ragged shirt hanging off a terse frame isn't what I need

but the dirty shower doesn't work in the bathroom downstairs
and my parents haven't asked about the onslaught of hairs
did you spend all day downstairs in that bathroom, cooped up in there?

a pile of ragged ebony feathers shed in the night
illuminated on the floor by the fading morning light
and I suddenly realized why I should never trust my sight

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander