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The floors shine and the furniture is clean and dusted.
Marks on the tile floor removed where table legs rusted.
Pictures hung and mirrors moved to suit my taste.
The few pots and pans tucked away ‘cause I don’t cook or bake.

Awards hang on my office walls from achievements long ago.
The walls sure need painting, what color I don’t know.
Fancy curtains were removed long ago from the windows in this place.
Burgundy colored blinds were hung to present a feel of open space.

The collars are down and buttons fastened on each shirt in my closet.
“Now where’d I hang my favorite tank top? Did I make my bank deposit?”
The hand drawn picture of a bald man with glasses- hangs still-
Reminds me of the little boy that drew it, whose love for me is real.

I pause in the doorway only to hear the echo of my steps.
Suddenly my heart is swept back to the day that we first met.
And now I see my sweet, sweet baby coming down the lane.
My love for her so genuine and hers an illusion that will remain.

“These walls sure are yellowed here where the old pictures hung.”
I pick up the cloth and cleaner to scrub where an hour ago I’d begun.
Seems I’m easily distracted by things and people now gone,
I still see and talk to them each day in this now- empty home.

My pain is great and my heart broken from the demons she couldn’t defeat.
Drugs my friends, grow demons within and from them spawns deceit!
A facade of control when out of control and reality is no longer real!
Hearts will lay cold and dead; alone and unable to feel.

“So whatcha think Wes? Who’d Mommy love best, me or the drugs?”
“Ya’ll gettin’ along in that one room apartment? I’m sorry! Give me a hug.”
“No, I’m not your real daddy but you’re my son. I’ll love you till I die.”
“Memories of smiles and hugs, laughter and love; things that make me cry.”

Thoughts and actions "after"