Is your favorite night to drink a whole bottle of whiskey
in your white t shirt and boxers
on a sunday night
because your daddy always drank after church
and your mom always wore his clothes around the house
because it's a quiet night
most asleep in the dead of night
while your strumming the piano keys
and taking a drag
remembering how many times you played as a child on these keys
your old dog fast asleep to the beat
one so familiar
the one your mom hummed you to sleep with every sunday night
and your dog would curl up at your feet,
that was peace.
Now they're gone and your trying to die
With every breathe
of that cigarette
with every gulp of that Jack Daniels
with every crack in your soul from cracking piano keys,
playing them too hard,
playing your hands to the bone.
You are dying,
and they are gone.