Remnants of hope

It’s mostly shampoos and soaps and remnants of hopes left to crumble to dust in the hotel room.

The person’s gone they’ve traveled on to glory,

to a new story, to the psych ward or a place with more gloom

Letters to know one

Notes that will never be read

From a soul living a whisper from dead in her paragraph

These are what I find in the motel room

And sometimes my heart starts to break and my fingers will shake and I wash my hands over and over

I say a quick prayer for the traveler and hope they find a raveler to stitch them together as a rover

It’s a night it’s a bed it’s a place for their head, four walls to trap their dreams

But each time I come after they’ve gone and the room shouts and announces it’s void from the neon signs dim beam.

Published by Homeless

Mommy. Social worker. Nice lady seeking to end homelessness and end poverty. FightOn

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