January 27, 2012


“If I die a lonely death, I’m sure it’s from the cigarettes 
I smoked each after you left me standing all alone.
Alone in my Park Avenue apartment that smelled fresh and new.
The extra set of keys from you are going to the maid. 

The maid has been my only friend;
she’s always there to apprehend
the dust and grim that settles in around the crystal vase. 
The crystal vase, a wedding gift, that through the years has made the shift.
What once held flowers now holds ash from my two packs a day.”

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