POETRY & VERSE
Packing Up Past Lives J. L. Barrow
She files away the seemingly Random black-and-white, dusty Photographs of a past life Into boxes filled with desperate Towels. Gazing at built-in shelves like She’s looking for some lost Jewel, heirloom; longing for something To be there to remind her of how great life Once Was. She looks through the kitchen, Tile cold to her bare and wondering Feet, eyes scavenging horridly for a former Face to appear and grant her a mere Smile. But none are here, and nor There. She cries herself to Sleep that night, lying with a plain blanket on The hard wooden floor, now bare from Color. She leaves her experience all packaged up In what once she called home; her Former One, she says quietly. She throws the keys, so Jagged, into the bushes, going go God knows not Where.
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