Happy Films And Missing People Poem by Not Long Left

Resting in the silence of night
watching clouds consume parts of sky
before drifting onto another part of town.

Stars lose there appeal when caught in
the haze of mans waste.
A happy film flickers with joy even when
muted I can still see the ficklness in
their smiles. Happy films make me
sad they remind me of my reality.

The books on the shelf beg to be read
to be touched, and tasted, yet they remain
closed. She who was once everything
sleeps, there is peace and longing.
For her to wake without the hate, without
the weapons of regret.
For her to remember what we had and
not remember what we have lost.

It is not illegal to pack up and start anew
to remove yourself from one two star town
and begin in another.
Each night this thought is taken to bed with me
and each night her back stares back at me.