16 August 2015

I can't count on you

I couldn't.

I haven't ever.

And I wrote "sorrys"
on napkins
on bar stools
on long nights
waiting for
anything from you.

And now that
you're "back"
nothing is different.
You're still the ghost
of the vision
of the man
I invented on
that night in January.

When you were selling
smiles and you
sold me.

When I was at my
weakest you caught me.
And when I was at my
weakest you left me.

We all leave the
same way we came in.
I suppose.

If consistency
was key you'd
be the prize holder.

But for now
well now
now I'll play weak
in the knees and go
back to bar stools
and long sighs
and then and then

and then.


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