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Honest John waits In his car.
peaks through his rear view mirror at the glass door. watching.
The engine is off.
cold air nips at his nose and ears.
ice caps cover grass.
the night pitch black
No moon in the sky.
few stars due to the city smog.

A Dim glow from inside the restaurant
Casts shadows in the parking lot.
She hides in them.

Rolling carts march uniform right on schedule
hauling trash to dumpsters just outside.
Honest john watches her slip on a Latex Glove.
*** a cigarette.
She doesn't want honest john to smell the cigarette on her hands.
He doesn't know.

Honest John's Phone buzzes.
He answers.
Told that "work is going late."
She "won't need a ride tonight."
"Won't be home tonight."
Honest John asks where she's going.

"oh, out with my lady friend.
Sarah, haven't seen her since high-school"

"Alright." Says Honest John.
"Have fun." He bit his tongue for the sake of not seeming Crazy again.
It wasn't very honest of him.

She climbs up into red Truck with
The man.
smoke billows out the windows as they screach off howling in the rearview mirror.

Honest John has always hated her lying.

John Loves Crying.
It's honest.
Not just his own tears.
Being the shoulder to cry on is johns momment of ecstasy.
Tears are Beautiful on everybody.
Nobody cries without a reason.

Alone John Smokes Djarum Blacks.

They're the most honest of cigarettes.
Don't paint themselves White
Try passing as innocent or pure.
Just Blatantly say
"Hey, we're way worse for you then a normal cigarette.
"This is slowly killing you"
John appreciates that
even though they're slowly killing him,
At least they are honest about it.

John speaks his mind.
Just as he beleives it.
won't risk leaving words
unsaid again.
but there is one word
he's troubled being Honest about.

Love.

Everytime he doesn't say it.
It kills him slowly.
which would be fine,
if love didn't lie.
Idealistic and idea-less,
basking in ignorant bliss,
I choke on the words
stuck in my esophagus,
whilst taking a long ****
onto your sarcophagus.

Dead and gone for
far too long,
I long to be gone of you
and your silent song
that plays endlessly on
and on and on.
Kevin Seiler Oct 2015
I'm going to live forever
Or at least die trying
#Short #tenwords #10w
Kevin Seiler Sep 2015
I write with cheap pens that dry out on the page.
Hair disheveled, I'm drunk, my fist trembles with rage.
Without skill, and poor grammar, you'd ask why I write.
But what else can I do when I'm writhing in hell every night.
"Good luck!"
The bartender said,
with a grin on his head.

With raised glasses
around the bar.

With a collective gulp,
our worries vanished.

With a collective flick,
our cigarettes lit.

and we all sat silently,
contemplating our own
specific set of doubts.

Looking for
our light within.
I dive and I sigh
where the sea meets the sky,
in the horizon reflected
on the surface of her eyes.

We're carried away by
a tepid receding tide
of the memories tied
to this time and place.

She fades.

The moon calls me,
whispers my name
into the vapid night,
I eventually came.

Yet it's never been the same,
basking in that forgotten light
illuminating my opaque pain,
it's just not right.
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