Going through the photographs
Of our last good time together
The trip of a lifetime
You called it
A lifetime
We thought we would spend
Together
Growing wrinkled and loving
But your work consumed you
And you were no longer
Glad to see me
No longer wanting
The wanting
Dinner a quiet war
Your allegiance given over
To a drug addicted son
Whose violence and cruelty
You could not see
And now I am sorting the photographs
Of our last good time together
My heart heavy with splendor
I keep the pictures
Of your golden smile
Comments
joshua mertz
November 28, 2015
Permalink
another divorce poem
Sorry for the sorrow and heaviness. Part of poetry, I guess.