cabinet full of whiskey
refrigerator empty
beautiful emotionless pictures on the walls
one or a couple photos
of the only girl you'll ever love
and what a vapid woman am i
to think that i might be any different
thoughtless styfoam packaging thrown to the bottom
of the ocean
only a few bites taken
and only once did you relish my flavor
with that first bite, let me roll upon your tongue
before you realized that you were in danger of want
and you only do disposable
and it's easy to get a new place
eat takeout
where you don't care about the taste.
~d.s.
YOU ARE READING
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
