Lowlife Freak
She holds my hand like I’d never
wake up after passing -out and drinking
one last lick from a broken bottle, only to
find myself needing another round of gin.
Yet, my woman cuddles me as if this
hair isn't filthy even though I haven't
hit the showers, even though I can’t
take my body to rest, to act functional.
And she gleams like she can't smell
the reek of alcohol I am breathing…
how my heart aches for the last time
her mouth kissed me on the face
after I broke a promise I couldn’t
possibly fulfill-- a lowlife freak, rogue of a man,
disappearing into bars and more bars
to silence fears so I cannot hear
old ghosts on the walls, in nightmares,
within her embrace,
… but still
I can’t love myself the same way that
she loves me like I never
screamed,
denied,
told her to go lose herself,
banging the door--
telling her that she was worse
than my compulsive urge.
She loves me -- a reckless quirk--
believing I will see THAT day
when I can Change.
.......................
11.17.2016
Creep Contest for Silent One
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment