To the boy on the bus I never spoke to..

At night you clutch the pillow to your face, calling out words to gods who have long forgotten the shuffle of this mortal coil. The empty whiskey glasses build and build til their emptiness is what fills your room. You drink every dram until the absolute last gasp of breath is driven from the bottle with hallowed moans. Each time you drop into the world around you, you cast off any thought that perhaps you could be should be can be loved. The clothes can’t cover the gaping chasm whistling inside you, and neither can the blare coming from your earbuds hide the whistling void of need… It makes me want to touch you, snap you back into the world around, remind you that warmth exists.

Reviews

[Nothing Personal]

An household, personable emotion indeed. You have rode into the emotions for the unknown, quite the way the mind wants to seek , it's delectable reading this..and maybe the boy has indeed has a different world but in your world, he is lonely, suffering, seeking love , shutting himself up. I am messing the review by trying to talk about the process, but all I should say is it's a great poem, quite relatable and putting words to unsaid emotions..Quite like it..

[Jonathan Ballam]

This ending sent chills shooting through the hairs on my hands. There is a certain mystery with children. You can watch them guffaw, chortle and shuffle along as if they're in their own bubble.

The most meaningful experience are felt and absorbed out amongst people.

[Mary C]

a sad and moving write, how many people do we cross paths with and yet never really share a moment with?

[emmajoy]

'You drink every dram until the absolute last gasp of breath is driven from the bottle with hallowed moans.' - that sentence is a poet's writer's pure touch .. the entire poem is beauty, empathy in sadness.