The one on her left wrist
reminds her of a family member
now long gone.
On her right forearm
a flower, because she liked how it looked.
On the back of her neck
a gecko she got in Cancun
and on her left thigh, one she'd rather forget.
None add her up or subtract
who she was or who she is.

Been drinking
as if the whiskey
will grow stale.
Meanwhile
not  a single word's been written
since the start of this hell.
I don't mind the silence,
it is the nights that bother me;
the moon and starlight
reminding me hope once lived!

thoughts are passing cars today;
ever changing,
constantly
on the move.
colors blur
and details clash.
one after the other,
the next
faster than
the last.

When all is failing- as it often does.
Laughter might not be enough,
nor beer and alcohol
nor praying to all the Gods.
-No matter,
just keep in mind,
sometimes it's your turn
to lose
and that's fine.
It is a long game after all

Bittersweet song
on my radio.
Reminiscing on our story
as if conjured.
Some roads fork
and divide,
others turn to dirt
and get lost in the wilderness.
Still, there's a melody
to be found;
memories fondly held,
despite the lies.

Akin to summer rain
or words you can't
seem to articulate
or the smile you feign,
The risk you take
once more.
Even coffee with an old friend,
or moments you regret.
‘bittersweet symphony’
on the radio.
And tears from your eyes
- right on cue.