Acclimation

Don’t you worry about me-
I’ getting used to it.
I’m getting used to the way the house sounds
when I walk in and no one’s home,
used to sitting down to dinner all alone,
meeting the steady regard of the pepper shaker across the table.
I've gotten used to how it feels
when something happens and I want to tell you
and I remember I’ll never tell you
anything again.

Tracy Jun 9th 2013 10:37 am Poetry No Comments yet Comments RSS

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