Thursday, July 18, 2019


seeing you
no longer brings me joy

your welcome mat
scuffed nearly unintelligible
is worn to hell

no longer a good place
for me and my clean shoes
to camp

waiting for the time
at best imagined
when the invitation's in

professional detachment rains
on every chance encounter
since my account was moved to suit
and all the friendly banter
has unrolled

dumping context at the doorstep
like the beach sand from a shore trip
but better left outside
on the door mat
with the disconnected bell
ringing with a silence
shaped like you

seeing you
no longer brings me joy
because without a doubt
seeing me
never really did

© 2019 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

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