this overcoat
of friends
filled with smoke and
lies. I’ve worn for
years. Drenched in tears
it’s soaked and heavy
as my father’s 60 Chevy.

Time to Shed
this wrinkled skin
I’ve lived in all my life. It’s pale
and thin/stretched
too wide. I cannot hide the
Lilly spots that branch out
from my eyes.

Time to shed
this painted red
drawer of memories
beside my bed. I haven't
energy to sift through
the pile/sort out the happiness
from the bile.