Anam Cara

 The mirror cracks when my eyes reflect the person in the room

waged battles between sinners and saints 

rage behind dark amber gates

always roaring

like starved lions

quietly pacing cages

awaiting the day the bars might bend

she's always boiling

threatening to spill over 

destroying whatever still lays on the counter

dotted with yellowing photographs

of smiles that no longer grace those faces

notes echo words

that never had the chance to be spoken

stale cigarettes lie there

still smudged with colors from long lost lips

empty liquor bottles

not one having their lid

but not one spilling the secrets they hold

yet 

in a storm so wild

a hole remains unfilled

no liquor

nor water

could ever fill

the pit in which I lie

all but have given up

on ever being pulled out


Comments

  1. That first line dredged up sorrow I'd locked into the boot of a stolen car and dumped in a swamp.

    ReplyDelete

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