The Room Knows My Name

oãoj enitnatsnoc



 

 

Loneliness knocked once.

 

I opened the door.

 

Nothing.

 

Just the smell of rain,

old cigarettes,

and a chair

that had been waiting for me

longer than God.

 

I sat down.

 

The room said nothing.

 

That was the cruelest part.

 

enitnatsnoc oãoj

Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    This poem leaves one thinking. Well done



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