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the dive

Poetry By: HowlinDog

Morning. A man fighting his own demons in a dive bar.

Submitted:Sep 5, 2008    Reads: 99    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

i left her alone last night

once more

the bastard

another cruelty for the list

the one written upon her cheeks in tears

and on her palms in bloody crescents

was it worth it

empty conversation

fueled by booze and blow

strangers proclaiming love

slapping my back

people who dont give two shits about me

the life of the party

the drugs are gone

they all go home

i remain

too late

too high

i havent called her

i never call her



another whiskey burns my desert throat

i shift on my stool

morning light searing

dilated pupils

and I wonder

will i ever be able to go back home


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