Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2010
The door closes at three am.
Smelling of beer (not mine)
and cigarettes (I only had one).

The past week I don't report to anyone.
I don't have to tell where I am, who I've been with,
what I've been doing.

There is no satisfaction in that.
I want someone to care.
(Just like he said he did.)
Kathy Myers
Written by
Kathy Myers  34/F/Lost in Translation
(34/F/Lost in Translation)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems