Before you get all worried, this is not a poem about me. It's about a man, and the woman that still worries about him.
~~~~~
Eyes burning
a man yearning
for hope, for fear
another beer
another drag
(not just of a cigarette)
another day
another dollar
bloodshot eyes
and he tells her lies
tells her he's okay
even though she hasn't asked for a while
she doesn't ask out of fear
out of fear that the man she once called dear
will lie
and she'll die
a little on the inside again
but then again, she usually does
because he's killing himself
a little at a time
it kills her to see him try
every bit of smoke, suffocation
every drink into damnnation
and she thinks these thoughts in private
never aloud
because no one wants to hear them
and she doesn't want to say them
but fuck, she needs to say those words
because they get bottled up inside
and there's nowhere in her mind, where they can hide
every time she speaks to him, she keeps talk small
never anything about what they used to be
never anything about what she sees
she doesn't tell him that she's hurting too
because what's the use?
It's over and done
there's nothing she can do now
he wouldn't want to hear
her pathetic cries
her annoying voice saying
"don't do this to me"
"don't do this to yourself, please"
I'm begging please
(and you know I don't beg)
life just goes faster than you know
and they just wanted to take things slow
but death is said to be easier when it's faster
but instead he dies slow
in a bar, the lights low
she begs him not to leave
not to lie down again
in that throne built for two
but only one will use
and she wonders
different things
like if he's happy
or if he's okay today
or if that girl made him feel something last night
who's he fucking tonight?
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PoetryA collection of poetry by @layschips1 RATED PG-13 HIGHEST RANK: #295 in Poetry © 2015 by layschips1 All Rights Reserved