The Broken Man
#15 of Poetry
Cold skies
And shivering sighs;
Lonely nights
And dimmed lights;
A bit of wine
To help pass the time;
To make me forget
That I've lost what was mine
Shadowed walls
And empty halls;
Blinking reminder:
Ten missed calls;
Another drink, please;
To help ease the loss I'd never see
Forever living in this shroud of mystery
Sunken eyes
And sullen sighs;
Holding in my hands what was ours
Listening to the passing of the quiet hours,
Paying no mind to the silent man
The drunken one with his head in his hands
Moonlit rooms
And thick grey fumes;
Taking a deep breath of my last cigarette
Burning it away like all of my regret
Closing my eyes as I hope to forget
Feeling the sting of what is no more
As the empty wine bottle hits the floor
Hazy thoughts
And stifled coughs;
Embers so red
And tears of remorse;
"Why could I not be there to change destiny's course?"
A broken man
And his broken memories:
A disease with no known remedies;
Forever doomed to be only half,
Never a whole;
Slowly taking its toll on his mind and soul
Until the day he loses it all;
A man no more;
Simply a vestige of what came before