heavy hearth
*throw darts at it
all you want,
but you still
printed a picture
of them to put
on your wall.
cut off the edges
over and over
like they never existed,
corners with no home
tucked away
inside sofa ridges.
maybe the polaroids
will befriend that
spare change you never
have five seconds
to clean up,
go on,
tell me again
how much you hate
someone who
brought you joy
until they had
none left to give.*
**it is not
the person
that I mourn,
but the hunger
yearning.
empty stools
with cups
filled of left-over
coffee stains
don’t fill in
your lack of presence,
not a present
I want in.**
the future
isn't looking
so bright either...
but pictures
paint pain
with rose hues
of nostalgia
which I then
convert to contempt
with the sharpened
edges of these darts.
I will
be waiting
on platform
number one—
time shouldn’t
catch you
refrain from
being hurried
to return home.
left fossil