My Sweetheart the Drunk

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When I look into the mirror

I do not see my face

I see the ghosts behind me,

Trailing blood and lace.


I excuse my misapprehension,

I apologise for my fault,

I'd love to fully explain

My face, my persona, my whole gestalt.


But I aint a good prose writer

I cannot see the end

I  always hear the thunder,

It is deep within my heart,

Trying to tear me apart

One day it will succeed

And then I'll be dead,



◄ A Rainy September

French kissing ►


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Tue 24th Nov 2020 04:18

Powerful first stanza John. 🖤 For the record you are an excellent writer, one of the best in my humble opinion. ❤️

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