Smoky Old Bar

Smoky Old Bar

By

Ann Outlaw

It's not my kind of place, this smoky old bar

But I sneak in every Thursday

I'm never too far

He pulls up a barstool and tunes his old guitar

I pour another bourbon, numbing the scar 

His deep voice sings a sad melody, our story unfolds, 

it's like a knife in my heart, like tar and feathering

Another broken soul tosses a tip in the jar 

He doesn't know I'm here, my hood pulled up too far

I crouch down, hunkered over the sticky bar

His songs tell our love story, how it burned out like a star

He strums the strings, the muscles bulging from his arm

I close my eyes, forever lost in his bad boy charm 

The phone in my pocket suddenly erupts, it screams out like an alarm

Startled, I jump, open my eyes and run off to my car 

It's not my kind of place, this smoky old bar

But I sneak in every Thursday

I'm never too far

Reviews

[willweb]

I really love the rhythm of this piece, how it flows, almost as if it is written to the melody being played on the guitar. I like the theme too. It is something that I can relate to in other ways I believe. To watch, listen or read anonymously someone you are heartbroken over...yes, I can feel that deeply inside. I truly like your style a lot. I am so happy you have come back to writing here again.

[Ann Outlaw]

Thank you so much for the kind words, it means a lot to me. Always happy when you stop by and read my thoughts :)