"Mess"
The streets are lined
with freaks, addicts, and fuckers
the night has come once again
illuminating storm and stillness
with its perfect light
He lays on the bed
contemplating
the what if's
the could have been's
Still in the tiny cramped space
surrounded by scraps of paper
half-eaten cartons of bad Chinese takeout
and empty bottles of Smirnoff and Jack Daniel's
She left in a haze
taking in her suitcase
all their hopes, dreams, desires
and dirty laundry
He finds a picture of her
in happier times
and softly traces her face
with his fingers
The skeletons of his closet
have come back
from the long buried past
for their much deserved
revenge
Smiling to himself
he drops to his knees
mutters a silent plea
calmly awaiting
the deluge to
commence.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
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