Prose Or Poetry the Dramatic Form

re-post inspired by Constance form D contest

THICKER THAN WATER

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..."
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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