Since I found you on the floor
without a pulse, you’ve been
replaced by someone else
who looks just like you.
She’s knitted me some
socks to keep me warm
through winter nights.
She scrapes the bread
crumbs from the table,
deposits them into the trash.
She’s not a selfish slob
like you were, but she
has your dark and soulless
eyes that bore right through me.
I know she’s waiting for me
to collapse into a senseless
heap, but meanwhile, she brings
tea and cookies. She has
nowhere else to go. Besides,
the fire is nice.
published in Entropy
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