He died on a Monday morning.
His wife was at work
and his children at school
and the tea pot was whistling,
ready for him to pour himself a cup
like every morning.
The newspaper was on the table,
right under his black-framed reading glasses
and the work he hadn’t finished the night before.
His…
(Source: buttholepoetry)
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calamityxjane said:
whoa. makes me think.
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rejectscorner reblogged this from buttholepoetry and added:
Feta’s Note: Haunting and beautiful, deadly yet peaceful. Love this poem and this girl.
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buttholepoetry posted this
“Change lives through art maybe. Write beautifully. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved if at all possible. Eat sensibly. Stuff like that.” -David Nicholls, One Day
