Empty Hangers

The end of a marriage that has been dying for years.

Being alone scares me,
but is not enough reason to stay.
A mangled wasteland of marriage
is a sad facade; a lost love play.

Rain gently washes the window
at this holy writing nook.
My face changes to trickle sadness,
tears fall to erase vows we took.

A fool for love, I search
to find Band-Aids for your heart.
Passion left. You own a recliner womb,
sole custody of the remote as we part.

We once dreamed together.
Wedding vows held sacred for life.
Now memories circle the drain
water drowns promises of man and wife.

I ask little of you. I wait, balancing trays.
You consume books, claim we both can win.
How proud am I, as if we both earned a doctorate.
My turn now. Wait, your excuses make my head spin.

Writing is my soul soaring,
a flight to a Universe of Metaphors.
Sonnets of Pain, Similes of Lust.
I begged; you would not lend an ear.

It's done. Tomorrow's clothes packed.
Christmas presents left to free fall.
No need for words,
empty hangers say it all.




By Kathie Stehr
Edited Jan 2011