Mr Handbag

The cackling sound 

of old led

sat and placed us 

with a person

It echoed out his life

and coughed up

three CD’s

so we sat.

darkness and fingernails

ran out of the room

leaving only me 

with Mr Handbag

his corduroy sweatpants

leaked receipts

covered in syrup

or was it marmite?

my heart began to bleed

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