This is my quasi-creative outlet home on SS. Feel free to take a peek.
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this shirt is old and faded, hanging to his skin
the differences of the natural and synthetic wrapping are becoming vague
his voice recalls his first smoke on a summer afternoon at the age of 13
its rasp like the thin paper of the cigarette

the prescription the doctor had given him
his physique so speedily diminishing

22 and just out of the army
always stopping at the diner for coffee and pie after work at the factory
the woman he passed every day at the bus stop
how her eyes seemed to shift
indifference then longing
after all this time

"Regret will eat you up inside," said the doctor on tv
some self-help book she had wrote, he never knew the title
"Always aspire to do the things you've dreamed of."
he half-listened while skimming the newspaper
for entertaining headlines to distract him from living

what happened to cards on sunday night?
all of these new things
and no one left to share the old

his hands shake now
he can't open jars or bottles anymore
they sit in his cabinet coated with a light dust
the jam, the olives, the wine
waiting for a release that won't come

He walks slowly around the block
looking at the flowers blooming on the neatly-trimmed bushes
the neighbors wave complacently as he passes
His name was never known nor sought out
He nods, smile thin, eyes dry

Back to his house
he shuts the door and latches it
the porchlight not on
it burned out years ago