Sixteen Messages

The fifth poem in my compilation, A Tragic Story...

It’s eight in the morning

I’m having trouble forming

Thoughts, I’m caught

Inside my own head

Smoking a cigarette, I still have yet,

-to settle into bed

 

I’m already started

Drinking, my mind further sinking

I try to stop thinking

About you leaving in your car

But it’s hard

Especially between two AM

And the opening of the bar

 

The bed’s unmade, the bills unpaid

A notice on the door

But I lack conviction, bring the eviction

I don’t want to live here anymore

 

Beep.

Sixteen new messages,

-waiting on the machine.

But I’m drinking the rest of this,

So I turn off the stupid thing.

 

A knock on my door, a friend says they’re worried.

They know I hurt, but I have to work

I’ll lose my job if I don’t hurry.

But I sit and stare,

I go nowhere, the friend decides to leave.

I’ve lost my will, to move or feel

Or even try to breathe.

 

The dishes sit in a rancid pit

That used to be the sink

I think…

I really can’t be certain.

The view outside, I try to hide

Behind a makeshift curtain,

-of blankets I nailed over the view

Because I burnt the ones you bought

They reminded me of you.

 

There’s cracks upon the glass

Of all our photographs

Of you when you were with me,

I ripped them down, after I failed to drown

Myself in a bottle of whiskey

 

A few days pass, and at last

There comes another knock

But they have a key

I come to see

As the door becomes unlocked

 

But I don’t move or look

I really don't even care

My friend walks in

I stay sitting in my chair

 

Silent, unmoving

As my friend gets his viewing

-Of the mess inside my apartment

The dirty clothes, the broken chairs

The stains of booze on the carpet

 

I don’t try to fight, it’s too late at night

I’ve had too much to drink

He says I need to leave

I need to breathe.

Get some fresh air, we’ll go somewhere

and leave this f*****g chair.

 

He takes me out, we get something to eat.

The entire time, I can feel his eyes

Bearing into me.

 

“I know it’s hard, you loved her, man,

-but you have to move on.”

He says, but I simply shake my head.

“I need to leave,” I suddenly scream

“I’ve been gone for far too long!”

 

He grabs me then, I shake again

I try to look away.

But I can’t retreat, he then repeats

What I haven’t been able to say.

 

“She’s dead! She’s dead!

And nothing will bring her back!”

I shake and cry, because I can’t deny

What I’ve known to be a fact.

 

I crumble to the street, and lean against the wall

My friend hands me a smoke,

And tears begin to fall.

 

She’s dead, she’s gone, I’m truly alone

I realize and try to breathe,

There’s sixteen messages on the machine,

But sixteen she didn’t leave.

Author's Note

This another poem in my compilation, which follows my life from the beginning of my troubles up to today when I've finally started to make things better. Some of them, such as this one, I've put on here separately before, but now I am putting it up again as part of this story.

Reviews

[Damien Davison]

HOOOOLYY SHIIIT... Wow man seriously one of the best poems I have ever read in my life. The ending was so intense;
"She’s dead, she’s gone, I’m truly alone
I realize and try to breathe,
There’s sixteen messages on the machine,
But sixteen she didn’t leave."

Seriously some of the best writing I've seen in a while man, it shocked me in a way most poems just don't. Holy f**k.

[MachinaWriter]

Thanks man. It was a tough time in my life, hard to write about, but necessary. It was an emotionally exhausting poem and when I got done writing all these, I was literally drained. I hadn't slept in a bit.

[Damien Davison]

I couldn't imagine man honestly I keep thinking of it and imagining all the things I do... Anyways man, you are very courageous.

[Southern Cross]

Whew I need to breath..such despair and yet you go on ..and carry us all along with you not from afar but up close... front row...feeling your sweat , smelling your booze laden breath..fine job really fine job

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you. That truly means a lot. I keep saying that, but its true.

[MachinaWriter]

This was a really hard time in my life. It broke me. In every way a person can be broken.

[Sirius King]

this is a great way of telling ur life's story, great job man

[MachinaWriter]

Thank you. I've told my story to people before and they've said I should write a book on it, but I've never felt like it before. Putting it down as a crisp story just didn't seem right. But when I wrote some of this as poetry, I felt like I could get it out in a unique way, that could hopefully describe the emotion, as well. There's a lot more I have to write, but I'm eager to do it now. Thank you for reading all this ^^