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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=528058" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Unburdened.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's not the sort of house <br>You'd want to go to again, <br>Mildred said, the smell hits <br>You first, the kind of smell <br>That climbed in your nose <br>And didn't leave for days. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She sipped her wine and <br>Sat down on the couch, <br>Carefully holding the glass <br>With her other ringed hand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was an unhappy <br>Feel About the place as <br>You entered in, a feel <br>Of neglect. She looked <br>At the black and white <br>Mat under the coffee <br>Table, at the books lying <br>There: Fashion books, art, <br>How to Dress for the Occasion. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We found the first child <br>Drowned in a bath, the hair <br>Was floating there on the <br>Water's skin. Someone sort <br>Of sobbed or maybe they <br>Didn't, seemed as though <br>They had. The second child <br>Was lying beneath a blanket <br>Where they'd suffocated. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That's where the main smell <br>Came from. She breathed in <br>And smelt pine air freshener <br>That Caser used in his house, <br>She wanted to smoke, pull <br>Out a cigarette and light up, <br>But didn't. The third child, <br>Baby really, was stiff in a cot. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unfed, unwashed, a token of <br>Neglect. Someone pulled back <br>Curtains, light broke through <br>Darkness, lit up the sad scene; <br>Another nearby let out a cry, <br>The under the breath kind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She pushed her knees together <br>As if about to give birth to a <br>Different tale, her hands played <br>With the glass, a finger tapped <br>The side. The mother was found <br>In a darkened room, wrists slit, <br>OD'd days back, slouched in a <br>Chair, dressed in death and black. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Had sleepless nights after, she <br>Said, ought to be used to, but <br>You never are, kind of gets <br>Under the radar. Caser looked <br>At her sitting there, her hair <br>Pulled in a bun, her eyes looking <br>Up at the Picasso print he'd bought. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She had told him at last. She had <br>Unburdened herself of the one <br>Last thing that she couldn't tell <br>Him at the psychiatric sessions <br>They'd had at his in town clinic. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Never did like Picasso, she said, <br>Turning away, putting down the <br>Glass, as of nothing more to say. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Caser watched her as she got up, <br>Brushed down her dress, sighed <br>And walked down the hall, left <br>His apartment, victim of the Fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Terry+Collett">Terry Collett</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=528058" data-title="Unburdened. de Terry Collett" data-description="It's not the sort of house 
You'd want to go to again, 
Mildred said, the smell hits 
You first, the kind of smell 
That climbed in your nose 
And didn't leave for days. 

She sipped her wine and 
Sat down on the couch, 
Carefully holding the glas..."></div>
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