Smoke and Mirrors

We were
dismantled
left at the gate
by the side of the road
as waste
years chained
to the past
to what we didn’t know
we dismantled
all those priceless memories
broken piece by piece
placed in a jar with a lid
to suffocate all stories, half truths and apologies
dissipated and yours to keep
now that you're not asleep
accompanied by
the light of the TV screen, alone
in the darkness, the shotgun blast
you call home

Reviews

[A. Amos]

Poetry read like a story, neatly crafted piece