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Black Shoes
by Sylvia Louise Blalock

The pillow on what was your side
lays there- accusing me.
The little plant you made me buy,
gave into- what I must bear in silence.
The silence has the beat of "Taps".
Once upon a time your love reminded me
to love myself and now I just want to forget.
The hat on the doorknob, the sweater behind the dryer, 
the black shoes next to the door
tease me into believing you will come back... for us.
        

Poem ID: 18085   Poem Posted: 7/29/1999
Viewed: 15982  Voted On: 228  E-mailed: 12  Commented On: 5
 
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Copyright , 07/14/1999,  all rights reserved by the author.
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