Poem of the Day: Empty Home

This house is empty, these walls aren’t a home when I’m alone, it’s just me. The tv is talking, speaking The Netflix language. Me and it are holding a conversation while the couch and my ass become best friends. I’m starting to think my daughter is right with her observation. Her father is more lonely than he’ll ever admit. This is my moment of weakness or am I just being vulnerable and showing the emotions I hold dear to my chest. With ever heart beat and every deep breath I contemplate will I spend the rest of my life like this. As I write this my eyes get heavy, I’m ready to fall asleep and hit the reset button. Then it’s back to the same shit again.

Published by Damien Jackson

A free thinker who is aware of what goes on in the world.

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