A golden line from the left over rum
circles the bottom of the tall see-through glass
that was nestled within your
hands on the kitchen table.
Flashes of memories,
of the nights coming home to
a home-cooked meal
made by your lover
then while eating,
you two tried to imagine
what the old 90's style kitchen
would look like
once you were finished renovating it.
Swerve around the half empty bottles
that covered the still outdated wooden counter tops.
Photo's of the family
and the years that you and her have spent together
lay face down.
These were once the memoirs
that made your heart beat twice in a row
now they taste bitter on your mind.
The glass breaks
shards fly
Everything you touch surely dies.
Get a new glass
fill it with rum.
Take a sip,
your mind is a swirling pool of alcohol.
It's been a month.
Every day starts out the same.
Hanged over from the past night,
vow to get rid
of all the alcohol within the house
go to a drug and alcohol meeting
and maybe find a better job.
But every night ends with
the trace of the weapon
that was used to numb your mind.
Getting up from the kitchen table,
you had your fill of liquor
for one night.
Making your way to bed,
you stop to look at the one photo
that was still standing.
It was the first photo
that was taken of her.
Then you continued walking.
Just another empty memory.
YOU ARE READING
Dear: Hell
PoetryThe elevator broke now death played with you all night. - Hell's Deal ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sometimes monsters are real, sometimes Hell is fictional, but both have impacted many lives. So, take seat with some coffee and enjoy this poetry collection.
