You got what you needed out of me
And you're gone.
I'm used up--discarded
And tossed aside
Like a dead raccoon off Beck.
Now,
I'm without a home.
I visit family
Yet I'm still alone.
(It is difficult to be around them
Without showing my long face.)
Your chair sits empty
As does my chest.
The cavity grows wider
As I grow thinner, grayer.
Pick up your bow
And your quiver of arrows,
Amazon,
And go West.
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