Home > poetry > The pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

The pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

This morning and again tonight,

I looked at the pile of clothes growing at the foot of the bed,

reminding me of each day that had passed, and how I couldn’t make myself stop.

This morning and again tonight,

I looked at the pile of clothes growing at the foot of the bed,

and I tried to remember what I wore that day.

I couldn’t remember at first, until I looked on top of the bureau

and I saw the clear plastic pink earrings,

and I felt embarrassed by how girlish they looked.

Those pink earrings used to remind me of an ex-boyfriend,

my favorite TV show,

and the birthdays I had in my early twenties.

How silly of me to put those on that day.

This morning and again tonight,

I looked at the pile of clothes growing at the foot of the bed,

and I remembered how he seemed so much like a child,

while I sat there with my pink earrings.

And we were both scared,

though only one of us was allowed to admit it.

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Categories: poetry Tags: , ,
  1. October 24, 2012 at 22:24

    great.

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