....

Things were oddly peculiar,

Key in the lock-

Half turned to open or to trap the scream. 

She left nothing of the former life-

Only shoes and tattered bedspread things

Where her dreams tore their fingers

Searching the mended mother holes

Keep quiet. 

You'll wake the neighbors with the

Sound of your beat less hearts 

But it may get lost in the sonic 

Noise of bustling aspirations

The car has been warmed up 

For some time but

It was never easy to go

Ego.