Derelict

A puddle settles between elbows,
And clenched fists support a bowed head.
Bellowed sighs densify an angered ambiance
Bereft of happiness and conversation.
Table reluctantly keeps empty bottles as companions,
Remnants of the miscreant, the bearer of disaster.

He cringes in the throes of his memories;
Remembering waking to the aroma of scented
bath water in the morning, and when his days
started with lipstick on his cheek.
Where have the little footsteps gone?
Recalling when they used to occupy his shoes.
The teapot that whistled every morning is now
a playground for dust bunnies.
The sounds of happiness are naught but outside
invasions, in a house now drenched with a
cacophony of resentment and regret.

Reddened eyes grudgingly peruse a barren bed,
Which threaps already sensitive ears.
He stares at the only mirror left intact, trying to
decipher the owner of the unsteady face staring back.
He sees only wrinkles, spots and blemishes, criminal
eyes with tear tracks; a fool unworthy of life.
The silence is shattered as glass echoes thru the surly air.