I gave you my key to the spare.
The room had just been finished,
And made new.
Red painted walls,
Furniture all fixed and furnished.
 
I gave you my key to the spare.
With trust I gave the room to you.
 
Not a year went by.
What started off so sweet and gentle,
Turned in to another one.
Another boy to tear apart my quaint, little room.
 
Drapes torn.
Doors slammed.
You stole the key I gave to you,
And left.
 
So, I pick up the pieces.
The torn and the shattered.
Refurnish. Re-fix.
 
A new coat of paint makes it look brand new,
But it won’t be the same after I met you.

November 2016

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Robert L. Martin
almost 3 years

It sounds like a welcome guest at the beginning, but turned out to be an unwelcome guest st the end.

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