Right now he is someone else,
rotting in the shower, the malodor
of scented soap and steam
his last attempt at cleansing the day
of sick indulgences from his being
It will not,
can not,
succeed
He drags himself dripping, defeated
past the empty bottles on the table
to watch a shooting star fall over
the heads of a pair of lovers
in the distance just outside his window
They feed each other with nothing
but their adoration and it's
with just a glance of their eyes
on each other that he feels
the world is holding a billboard of some sort that reads "I love you" for everyone to see
He trudges on to his bedroom where
his mirror reveals too much of the
things that haunt him, he glances away
at anything to rid him of the sudden betrayal
He'll lay in a ball silently,
and it's the city singing
its unsettling lullabies
the best way it knows how
that distracts him, pulls him into this
trance where he's thinking but nothing
that comes to mind stays long
This repeats until he's self-consciously
waiting for the aches and pains
to breathe life into him again the way his cigarettes never could
It'll start at the small of his back,
he'll surrender then as he always does
closing his eyes before the tears run
like streams down his cheeks
moving is unimaginable now, he's forced
to endure this episode
a ball, curled into himself
He's grateful that it hadn't happened
in the shower, that it hadn't happened
on the subway home, and that it hadn't happened during his presentation
In moments like these, he imagines how
different his life could have been
should have been that instead of
such a pitiful scene, he should be
sat at a table full of food, a wine
glass pressed against his lips
He imagines that just on the other end
is someone with a soft smile
and eyes that don't look at him
seeing the things he hates and hating
them too
It's not them beckoned to his
door tonight however,
sliding a key into the jagged depths
of his apartment lock
A saint all the same, she enters silent
smooth even, eyebrow arched in a
question she may already know the answer to
Her gloved hand gentle as it caresses him
He dislikes this side of him she sees,
a vulnerable stubborn cripple he is
but as she caresses him and eases his torment he find himself ready
Ready to slough off and meet Eos at dawn, he'll raise his eyes to a starless horizon, bidding the city a solemn goodnight; the street lights fizzle feebly,
just enough to say it back
YOU ARE READING
Dedicated to the Words
ПоэзияA series of random pieces put in one place. I like to think that there's nothing more exciting than the roller coaster of life. Some pieces may be very sad but I enjoyed writing them and I hope you enjoy reading them. Please vote, share, and comment...
