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Brokenbutterfly22
icy wind blasts straight through the cracks and drafts blowing the world down eerie, ugly, haunting sound won't be ignored then comes the rain stinging the streets bullets of hail whipping glass a cold evil night tormenting my mind with lost loves thoughts still stirring at the witching hour the only glow on the block my bedroom window and what comes next a f***ing rapping a f***ing tapping a rapping on my front porch door "Is it the wind?" asks I while racing to the light flipping the switch to illuminate the night nothing from my window do I see so I yell into the blackest storm "Is anyone out there--hello?" but nothing not even a peep returns to me so back to the chatroom I return and begin my reply to my dear brokenbutterfly22 barely touch I the keys and comes again that f***ing rapping who in the hell could that rapping be? I grab a weapon to comfort me and stand near that noise I'm ready to see that f***ing tapping that rapping on my back porch door of which I'm safely on the other side I call out and it replies "it's Noreen" "Who the f*** are you?" "I came from the jail. Your house has the only light. It's so cold. Can I please come in?" and this thirty-five year old stranger who doesn't look a day younger than fifty I let in meth hasn't been kind to her I send the sojourner to an empty room, and go back to my dear brokenbutterfly22 not two minutes later her voice at my bedroom door "Do you have something I can smoke?" she asks "No," I say wishing she would go away who comes calling at this hour rumbles through my head, and better yet, who's the idiot who lets her in? her voice still there says she can't sleep "Can I please-please drink some of your whiskey?" she implores (I remember on my dining room table a bottle of bonded rye left by my son from Kentucky) "Hell, no!" I exclaim and in righteous indignation I grudgingly tear away from my dear brokenbutterfly22 "Listen, I let you in. I didn't have to. According to the Universe, you're not my responsibility. Can you just go to bed?" "Yes sir. I'm sorry. I really appreciate that you let me in." yeah, I'm not nice yet do I nice things a cold, callous, mother***er no, not according to my dear brokenbutterfly22
Copyright © 2024 Steven Young. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs