What Stays in the Drawer

I found my old badge in a drawer full of pens,

right next to a lighter that ran out of spark.

It’s funny how quickly a heavy life ends

and leaves you just standing alone in the dark.

My wrist is a pale, quiet circle of skin

where the watch used to bite when the deadlines got tight.

I learned that the world doesn't care if you win,

it just keeps on turning and chasing the light.

You walk out the door and the lock makes a sound,

a final, soft click like a bone being set.

And suddenly gravity pins you to ground,

showing you all of the things you can finally forget.