Kowalcyzk

Bloody nose again

the iron taste drips down the back of my throat

reminds of sex and immorality

tissue against my nose

morality fell out of my hand some time ago

I say that in a ignorant manor

not a some philosophical way that might make this poem a tad more shallow

I slur words at young lovers

wishing them luck

knowing that there’s a chance one will be left

more broken than the other

I clink glasses with my demons

and pour a swig for the good people

gone too soon

I walk between grave stones looking for one with a great last name

and we become friends.

I tell him over and over I can’t do this

I can’t do this, again

He listens and waits for more of what I have to say

you know because the dead are much better listeners

We sit quiet together

it wasn’t comforting

but, in a comforting way, there are no black birds

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.