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I started by writing poetry. I have no idea if that’s “common”, or whatever, amongst writers, but I started in first grade. It’s always come easy to me and I view it as a challenge sometimes … Random words can spur a few lines, or the way a smell takes over my senses, how a breeze tickles the back of my neck, or how the sun burns. They’re all ingredients.

For the last two weeks I’ve had a random line stuck in my head. I didn’t know if it was supposed to go into a story or a poem at first, but it became clear within a day or two that a poem was where it was meant to go. Only … I didn’t know what poem.

The line was: “I was alone when the world ended”

On the drive to Atlantic City, it came to me. And, I want to share it with you.




I was alone when the world ended

When they said hope was lost

–and you were gone



I was Loneliness



Translucent skin

that causes kids

to cross the street


The world turned grey,

grey faded to black,

–the black seeped into my heart


Sludge, suffocating happiness

Strangling peace

Releasing nothingness to

run wild


Hands that once held yours

blistered sore, from



Bloody reminders that

you won’t be returning

–no happy ending

Unless I come too


Why couldn’t you take me with you?


I wasn’t left behind

in the life we shared before


You sent me to hell–

A place where everything is

exactly the same as before–

except now it’s all framed

with rusty razor blades


Look, but don’t touch

Your gone-ness hurts too much


I was alone when the world ended


You said you’d never leave me


Never hurt me


You lied.






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