LOSE

Wild Heart Scribe

Lose myself on a dusty ceiling
on the edge of a 60-watt bulb

Lose myself on the floor,
a threadbare mess,
deep into the pink and purple Play-Doh tinged carpet

Lose myself in the sound of
rushing feet
adolescent angst
raging laundry

Lose myself in the sight of
an empty bed
forgotten toothbrush
a door shutting after him

One has wings set to his Converse clad feet
So many ways I could lock him in
but who would win
My loss is his gain

So I will lose once, then
again
again
and again
until there’s no one left to lose but me…
in the quiet I always begged for…
on a dusty ceiling
on the edge of a 60-watt bulb.

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