Chores
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Chores
I must get up today.
I will need to open my eyes, stretch, yawn and move.
My feet will need to hit the floor first. Not my face.
Why my face you might ask?
because I have fallen lately.
Not so much physically but emotionally.
Losing someone close to you does that.
Whacked by a truck would feel better.
Run over by a train, I favor. A little messy but then the pain…
It would be real and you would be able to see the scars,
easy right there in plain sight.
Instead,
this is worse.
Knifes in my eyes when the sun hits the window,
The birds sing and I yell… “Quiet”
or so I want to.
This would not make her happy. None of this…
Whatever this is…!
I am letting her down. I know.
That can not happen!
So, I get up.
I look at the list.
It is a stupid list. One she left for me, (chores to do) before she left me.
She did not want to go. That was not her fault.
It was just time. Not mine but hers. I am not happy.
Again, I know she would not be happy either,
To witness my state, before I put on my face, I keep hidden.
It helps to hide, what I can not, hide from myself, or her.
Whispers of her voice, flashes of her smile, a silhouette of her pretty body,
They haunt me. Not unkindly, instead… just to bring me hope.
God he hears my broken heart.
He is not deaf at all.
Time is the answer.
“I know.”
It does not…
change how I feel,
today.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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