Poetry

Motel

I wrote this poem, because over the past year, I’ve lost a lot of people. I’ve had a very rude awakening that everything is, in fact, temporary. So, this is for those I’ve loved and lost, for those who packed their bags and left, for those who just dropped their room keys at the front desk and sped off. They all can probably find themselves in this poem, one way or another.

My heart has become a motel

in the worst part of town

rented out to local drug dealers and prostitutes

lovebirds and lonely men

 

The dealers who get high off power

have no problem wrecking their temporary home

overdosed on stolen souls and borrowed time

 

The street corner sweethearts who look for love

late at night

come home to vacancy

the thermostat is broken

so it’s always so damn cold

 

Couples flock to their rooms

as soon as they’re handed the keys

 

Some alone time at last!

in between the four paper thin walls

it’s just them

and all guilt

is left on the dingy doormat outside

 

Isolated men

find their homes inside this motel

and their heart at the bottom of a bottle

their lives a series of 9-to-5s

and half-warm microwave dinners

sat in front of the TV

 

My heart is a motel

no one stays for too long

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