Nocturnal Torture Poem by R.Benjamin Abate

Waiting for the sound
of the Key
In the lock
of the front door

You said you'd be
Home late
So I start dreamin'
of Armageddon again

I wish I could
Just take off
& Leave
A note

But this isn't easy
Native American Lovin'
It's love with
Possessions scattered

All
Around
This old
Dusty place

Which we bought for
One another
& Right now
I feel like

I have nothing
Left to give
But I can't just
Gather my

Things
& Leave this
Old
Place

I'll just have to
Stare at an old picture
of us smiling until
You make a sound