One sparked up a fresh Richmond under the glow of the heat lamp, the other puffed away on a menthol grape vape that scented the shelter.

The stubborn silence was broken with an offhand comment on the rain. He smirked, snorted and agreed but still seemed out of the moment.

Another heavy drag on the dark blue electric fag in his hand

Through thick and thin, for better or for worse, in sickness
and in health
they’d sworn it

When he walked in again to find her on the bed again with the bottles emptied again and after wait after wait for a referral again the world become colder again and the cycle was starting over again

He knew he needed to stick it out, he could never make this worse
the lust was gone, but he couldn’t walk away
maybe this time she’ll beat it
maybe this time


He returned inside and placed his lips on hers, sat beside and smiled.
hopefully this time she’ll beat it
hopefully this time

kitchen sinkmental healthpunk poetry

◄ The Caveman

Typical ►


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