Empty Shadows #41

Bukowski got into my head this morning ...

Empty Shadow Forty-One

Draft 1

By: Chase L. Currie

 

She snickers at the miss

                Kissed of his pen

Over a cup of coffee

                Hiding the whiskey shakes

Of a drunken alley cat

                In black heading to his grave

Trying to escape the

                Loneliness ticking in every clock

Echoing in every passer by

                Smoke drifts around his bum eyes

His hard face in the need of

                A kind shave

A kinder peck

                She giggles at the miss

Chance to hold his sore hand

                On a stroll down the Midnight path

In the rain the same way star cross lovers did

before the dagger and the venom  

Stars cloaked behind the crying sky

                He hums a sorrowful Blues tune

With her tears

                She balls behind a locked bathroom door

He sits against it, eyes hidden, with his black hat

                His red eyes of broken memories

Those tears to heavy to hold in rotten bones

                ‘You didn’ love me,’

He loved her until the angels begged him not too

                He loved her

                                He just couldn’ find the words.