on the porch

i was on the wrong side of the closed door
outside on the front porch
wondering if i should start this beginning with a drag of a fresh cigarette
or bring closure to the end by snubbing the flame
with my pointer and thumb
twisting the paper like the end of a joint
and saving half for next time

i took a deep breath
as if this was the last time i would smell the cut grass
from this facade
at this house
that i had shared for so long
and now seemed alien

i could go back inside
open the oak front door and probably see him
still sitting on the same faded cushion
mindlessly staring at the same television program
that provided white noise
during our final conversation
the one he didn’t partake in
he never participated in our debates
i always fought myself
and won
and lost
without him

i looked down at the burning cigarette i had yet to smoke
and snubbed it out
twisting it like a joint,
with my pointer and thumb,
and saving half for later
i was on my side of a closed door
and i lost
and i won

on the porch

ekennedy

Joined June 2008

  • Artist
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poetry

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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