Sircharlesthepoet

Poetry by Charles Joseph


Comatose

I never knew how it started.
I’d just always be sitting at that seat when she walked into the car. Then

That became our thing.
That became our time.
That became our train.
That became our car.
That became our seat.
That became our corner.
That became our station.
That became our greeting.
That became our expectation.
That became our reason to smile.

That became our every day.
Until someone was missing

From our thing.
From our time.
From our train.
From our car.
From our seat.
From our corner.
From our station.
From our greeting.
From our expectation.
From our reason to smile.

Every day, 11 days.
She knew that was it.

When I woke up, 11 days later,
I knew that was it.

——————-

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