I reached for you in
a moment of despair;
Instead, my hand returned
clutching an empty bottle.
Your voice melts into itself
and I find no comfort
in the depths of your
deep oblivion.
You hide inside a cloud,
inside a body where
vodka replaces blood
and oozes from pores.
I take care of you
while soothing myself
with empty words
that can’t wish away
your broken promises.
You’ve settled yourself
comfortably into the gutter
but still look down on me
because the real you
is caught somewhere
between regret and hope,
though neither mean a thing.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Excellent
Very good. I was quite pleasantly surprised how smoothly it communicated a meaning, and the depth of the topic. It isn't always a thing we share or write. Doing both, takes talent, and strength.
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Dear Sam-a-nantha
Such a real and powerful piece. I know of this you write about. Your ability to get it out and on paper is amazing...
Poet-Wyatt
PS. Do you send your work out?
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Send it out where? I post on another site, and I have a piece published in a very small magazine, but that's about it.
Thanks for the compliment, dear. I love your work, too.
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My goodness Sammy. This is amazing. Sad and intriguing and painful and perfect.
As always, you inspire.
I miss you, and it's wonderful to see your writing again, even when it seems to come from a darker place, though you know I always wish you the very best.
*hugs*
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Thanks, dear. It's hard not to write from a dark place when you're drowning in one. I'll survive. Always do. It feels good to write again...
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Very well done *smile*
X x x
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