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At first her voice drifted to me, somewhere from around the bend of the old cabinet
While I picked my way into another dead end of our derelict furniture store
“No, I know exactly what I gave him, I have a list. They were all high end furniture while I had them.”
It’s a slow prickling of a feeling I felt, this obstinate presence has been a slow process
Before you saw her go,
“my purse was placed on the table, she’s just being stupid.”
There she was, the love of my life for the past 40 years looking afar into the distance
Sitting atop another stressed dining chair that has since lost its ensemble
Perhaps forgetting its origin and name,
Where she’s been this whole time
It seems she has forgotten while I stood guard over her,
She rambles
Not to me, but directed at an audience she has since acquainted at the corner of the ceiling
So beside her I stand when you passed by to stare;
This is my wife.