Problems may have come,
Bad times may have culminated to sorrow
but all the while she lay clutched on to her drink.
Like a baby, she held on her drink-
Kissed through the endearing lips of all shades-
From whiskey, rum, beer and wine- she caressed and
fed her soul to a high that now speaks of this woeful
In pain she cried, as her ankles bled from the very deceit
that now shames her soul as she staggered and muttered
in her awakeness, almost unrecognizable- with her messy hair
blood shot eyes like a witch’s gaze at dawn-
Flaky skin, dry lips- torn smelly clothes from weeks
of indulgence almost endearing – as she hastily spoke…
“another drink- that’s all I need”. Clutched on to my clothes,
she holds on to me.
Many times I might have spoken through those
beautiful moments and days as we dined on the finest.
Talked about the dangers of that poison that now
is stained on her clothes. Rehab might have been
a home for awhile but even then she convinced me
that she was alright…
For a love she lost through lovely days- a man she loved
and gave her all- a very beautiful creature I often retorted-
With her long beautiful nappy hair, beautiful skin and hair
and a shape that often turned the heads of men both young
and old- and intelligence that often amazed me.
A beautiful wasted creature!
Regret is often made through throngs of passion-
A moment she lost- a grief she held-
Hope might have escaped momentarily
But all the while, her alcohol became her comfort.
Here she stands close to me in her most desperation
and I feed her with what kills her …
A sip she takes- another gulp it becomes and she
drops by my feet with one last gasp…
“I might have been raped last night”
There, moments recalled-
With one last smile on her face-
The Lights flickered, Curtains closed…
And I just stood there in rage.