Brian Strand Poet Prose Poetry

MY LAST N-A

I pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered my
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited my senses. 

A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of my
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at my feet

I switched on the light
"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."

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Constance La France January 15, 2024 at 1:06 AM Brian, a very emotional poem and well done, blessings, Constance

Ink Empress January 3, 2024 at 8:50 AM The ending in this made me tear up. A very soul stirring and evocative poem so well written: one of my faves from you, and the mention of chanel stood out for me as thats my fave too: the depth and flow of this is brilliant. Felt this poem