Friday, January 27, 2012

The Prodigal Wife

long into the night
each breath
as laboured as the last.
Surely the
end will
come soon
as the sun rises
never has the pain hurt so much.
In the darkness
cold clammy hands reach
out for her throat
making her heart tremble as
early trains wail in the night.
Her eyes close as an
owl hoots
making it's way home
east and the sun is rising.

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