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They say your past makes you wiser
My past just haunts me
It makes me see what a fool I’ve been all these years
To think that I could actually love you
Or the fact that you loved me, as you said

With age comes wisdom, they say
Laughing and tossing around sayings of the past, age and wisdom
I’m sitting thinking what my age brought along with it

The nights filled with empty liquor bottles as I try to drown my sorrows
The long evenings spent watching the stars come up and thinking of your eyes
The way we used to be
Or maybe it’s the mornings
The ones where I wake up and you’re not there next to me
And then I get that feeling of regret and I start to beat myself up

You know I think it’s the afternoons that take the gold
‘Cause by this time my boss is calling me asking me to explain what the hell is wrong with me
And honestly if I told him what was truly wrong, he’d call me crazy
So I just sit there in silence until he tells me not to bother coming in
Cause by now this is my third and final strike
He’s gone and I’m left with just the dial tone, or maybe it was my heart beating

I throw the phone down, but it rings again
This time it’s the landlord asking for all the rent I haven’t paid yet
This time he doesn’t say cover it in next month’s rent, he tells me to either pay or get out
I wait and wait and wait for another word, but all I hear is the dial tone

I push the phone off the bed and try to focus my eyes, but all I can make out in the distance is your smile – the white gloss that shined whenever you opened your mouth
I try to push myself off the bed and I landed face first on broken glass
I couldn’t remember anything about glass, but I seemed to picture the fact that I was so mad at myself I smashed the bottles still filled with liquor to the floor
Letting it sink in the rugged carpet
I laid there for a few minutes, or maybe it was a few hours, I couldn't remember

Finally it was evening again, but I wouldn't be watching the stars
The phone rang and rang and rang
I pulled up the strength to get off the phone and answer
But at ease it was my co-worker, you know the ones that never seem to mind their own business

The questions that never stopped, why am I not there yet
Do I know I’ve been fired, blah blah blah and so on
Finally, I’m tired of it and just hang up

I drag myself to the bathroom
Watch myself up and get ready for the night round
I try to clean up the broken glass, but all I see is your face rather than my reflection
I leave the glass where it is, in one big pile on the floor next to my bed

I moved to the screen door and opened it up and began my way down the long stride
I walk down the street, cigarette in left, liquor bottle in right
I look up to the stars and there is a big dark, glowing…

SNAP BACK TO REALITY

I’m still walking that small, narrow street; the only difference is it’s the night
I always run out of liquor way before I finish driving my sorrows away
So this time I packed extra, and I mean lots of extras

I’m basically wasted by now and I keep walking trying to make out where I was at the moment
Somewhere between Crazy street and Mental Lane
I took out another liquor bottle smashing the last one to the ground
I waited for the sound from the crash, but nothing
Heard nothing in return, not even a thank you
You ungrateful ******* ground
I continued my unthinkable walk not yet sure where I was going
Somehow my heart understood and gave me what I needed
Not what I wanted
I ended up, blacked out wasted on your doorsteps

Somehow, my heart understood what my pain couldn’t make out for me
And you took me into arms just before I fell

Woke up the next morning with a massive hangover
I was in a bed, but this time I got out and onto the floor
But this floor was different; there wasn’t any broken glass on the floor
There weren’t any phone calls from the job or nosey co-workers
There was just peace

I found my way into the kitchen and there the memories struck me
I thought of all the times we spent together, but now I was a drunken mess

Somehow my heart understood and there I was
All this just to end up in this room with all these memories
My heart explained what the pain couldn't
And it felt what the tears couldn't
 Nov 2013 McKenna Carrig
hkr
i can start every sentence with
if i were beautiful . . .
and i still won't be

but if i write enough poetry
at least i'll have something beautiful
to show for myself.

— The End —