Gone tomorrow

​“It’s quiet this morning.
Dead quiet.
Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Trailing off into nothingness.
The atmosphere smothers,
I can feel it pressing
Like a pillow
Against my skin.
We all know.
Waiting, both patient
And impatient,
For someone to say,
To tell us
What we already know.
As if that will make a difference,
Like he’s not gone
Until they tell us.
There won’t be shirt tearing,
Hair pulling sobs.
Maybe when we leave this place,
We will whisper to those we love.
Someone died.
Here, Today.

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Author: agw

Amateur poet and writer who aspires to write more...

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