Broken – Page 27 – Iron Haiku

staring down into
another empty bottle
devoid of answers
–
august sun-
tumbleweeds across
a dry creek

a candle and spoon-
the bare bulb above her head
casts a harsh shadow
–
on the corner-
slowing headlights
catch the rain

dark foreboding clouds
low in the afternoon sky
harbingers of doom
–
soft rain-
broken trees
and power lines

feeling quite tired-
always the one left behind
cleaning up your mess
–
monday morning –
waiting for
the phone call

I crawl into bed
too tired to fall asleep
reliving the day
–
a warm breeze-
awake in my bed
paralyzed

nose against the glass
looking through my reflection
at life passing by
–
still water-
echos of
narcissus

ringing in the night –
hearing the sound of your voice
I fall to my knees
–
silent crickets-
two marines stand
in my doorway

sharing in your pain-
my heart and soul wrapped around
your weary shoulders
–
staring at the floor-
the world rolls past
my window

whispering my name-
the last word upon your lips
before you leave me
–
peeling paint-
the swinging gate
at my back

in the dark shadows
cobwebs cling to memories
of a distant past
–
winter stubble-
remnants of
my father