#289. "Gutted" (11.18.2011)
I hate this part --
This is what I remember every time.
What was once my home
Is now gutted of all evidence of me.
What was once my sanctuary
Now never will be again.
I long to reach out and touch
The furniture I leaned on --
I long to curl up on my bed
And reclaim that warmth --
But it's all gone --
Every bit of me is gone.
And so I take one last look
At the white walls and carpet...
I hate this part --
This is what I remember every time.
I curl up on the carpet
And allow myself one last cry.
I want to bring it back --
But I can't reclaim that warmth.
It's all gone --
Every bit of me is gone.
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