The Room
by Timothy R. Yates
The room smelled like death.
I only left it to score or take a leak
Or peer in the fridge for a long while
Before deciding to do another shot.
My world had shrunk into the room
Leaving me breathless and alert
For things that never occurred.
She shared that room with me.
We fought most all the time because
Our habits could never quite agree as
We lied to each other about what truth was.
Day in and day out
It turned out to be bloody toilet paper,
Arguments over wants and needs.
Death was such a tease in that room,
Worse than she was with her lies and deceits.
Transfixed, tantalized, I split my affection
Between my lover and death.
Our dance macabre was nothing more
Than a pitiful joke that backfired
Into a room that smelled like death.