![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/vmr9lncpzon4abplzv7s.jpg)
The spot is truly filled with a stagnant air
Lingering is the last strands of her red hair
I can only sit across from it and glare
My voice gone as my throat is held in a snare
Time that has passed, I slowly become aware
Soon will be eleven years of a nightmare
I still can remember the feel of her stare
Resting on me whenever I looked elsewhere
But oh how her personality would blair
Like her terrible screeching when she would swear
At me, just telling me that I should beware
And that she was great and no one could compare
Always reminding me that no one would care
If I drowned in my misery and despair
While the vile liquid sitting in our glassware
Would engulf me, my version of a prayer
A broken man who doesn't know how to repair
The memories come back to me like a flair
Returning to that long frightful time is where
I go whenever my eyes land on her chair
About the Creator
Andrew Schrader
Writer/Photographer
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.