melissa mundy

The Trash

In the endless nights
that follow her death,
I gather my trash bags
and swing them like a weapon
as I cross the black cement walk.
The shadows wrap themselves around me
stealing what little breath she left me.
Her eyes glow through the stars
as she watches
the wind whispers her warning
there are no second chances.

The dumpster waits patiently
behind towering steel walls.
The lid creaks a shrill hello
as I reach high above my head
and fling the bags into the black hole
I cannot see but can smell
fetid odors of others lives
lived no more.
Unholy fear burns my lungs
as I turn on my heel
into the blackness created
by whoever threw her away.

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Poem Edited: Friday, April 15, 2011

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Comments about The Trash by melissa mundy

  • Nika McguinNika Mcguin (2/16/2014 10:00:00 PM)

    A captivating write, It leaves me in awe-struck and mystified.

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  • Marvin Brato (10/14/2007 11:31:00 PM)

    The memories of a love one linger in our heart, too heavy to let go because it made part of us. The love and care shared cannot just be easily forgotten, had it not because of death such moments could still have continued.So sad someone cruel so evil killed the one we love, leaving the trash of memories a memory! Well penned, top mark.

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