because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

Pouring out the bitter

You don’t tell me you love me
and I don’t tell you I know it. Instead
I make plans, steal words, write
poems you’ll never read, pour out the bitter
into the river’s swollen april browns,
swallow down cheap malt liquor,
drown the cheap lines and nights
alone with afternoons under the same rainy
roof, just like we used to, the smell
of your skin still intoxicating, only
you don’t tell me you love me,
and I pretend I don’t notice, put my clothes
back on, write the poems. And
do you know? I’ve had worse hangovers.

7 responses

  1. Ron

    Exquisite…yet…ineffably sad.

    April 20, 2015 at 9:49 am

    • Thank you, Ron. sad seems to be my MO these days. better out than in, though. 🙂

      April 20, 2015 at 10:03 am

      • Ron

        Keep doing what you do…the world needs you. *smile*

        April 20, 2015 at 10:14 am

  2. kay Middleton

    Yes indeed, i have had worse hangovers. Poignantly phrased.nk

    April 20, 2015 at 9:53 am

    • indeed. twas awesome of you to come and Poe with us on Saturday. hope the rest of your weekend was likewise excellent.

      April 20, 2015 at 10:02 am

  3. Dear Poetessa – such angst, such sadness, would be despairing on others. Somehow it makes you beautiful – ok, so enough beauty already. Time to sober up and cheer up! Sending love as always, Ol’ Man Mosk

    April 20, 2015 at 12:48 pm

  4. Sam

    O yes. Pour out the bitter. Better to put it on the page than have it turn poison in the belly. And turning poison into a poem that works is proof of craft.

    April 21, 2015 at 3:22 pm


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s