Pale Shelter
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Love, to you
nothing more than washed away graffiti,
once dripping along the
mismatched bricks of this worn facade
where tattoos mean forever . . .
even when they fade
A clutched lamppost,
scarred and dented, a fake shade of green
meant only for leaning
and illuminating handbills advertising
high rent in the slums,
supports me
As I look beyond the littered gutters
needing a good rain to wash away the past
where you left me standing again,
uncovered, exposed . . .
winter called and thinking it was you,
(it had the same chill affect) I answered
I thought you were it, that thing that I needed,
not a leaking roof draped in a blue tarp,
but the east to my west
when my direction pointed north
until you ran south
taking it all with you
Beyond my control,
you laughed at love, (cackled)
thought you knew better,
cut holes in my umbrella
and then prayed for rain,
while my life was already drowning
You gave it and took it
and with my happiness in tow
on that one way street
where “No Vacancy” signs were misspelled,
drove away, drove away from me,
tail lamps and your heart . . . never braking
11/12/19
Written for the Pale Shelter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2019
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