he will never attend a meeting
he listens
when his life
begins to beg for itself
i gaze at the stone
held by the ring he gave me
it is beautiful and broken in half
just as he is
he is the needle
and i am the damage done
Categories
aayoungPoetry, Prose, Art, Curiosities
2 replies on “he’s not that kind of drunk”
Sad but dignified, almost regal.
The image in the background (I assume you), is a perfect fit.
This poem is fantastic. I like the last two lines especially