Short poems

Tore my house down.

Tore my house down.


And there we’ll go to another wedding, another baby shower, another “Isn’t this fun?” another happy hour with statue faces, airs and graces, elongated gestures and food you can’t take where nothing’s out of place and there’s nothing I want more than to scream “What a f*cking bore!”

Take me out of this race I can’t help the faces, I run backwards and trip “Just get a grip” as I cry mercy and quit because you know what? I’m not over it. I never will be. When you left you tore my house down and chewed up the foundations.

Please fly with the angels and play with the daisy’s.

Goodnight baby.

© G.P Williamson 2018


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