There were angry days
and angrier days.
Fist-shaped holes lined the walls
my knuckles all cut and ***** with plaster.
But now the days are filled with sweet tea.
My lazy gut hangs over my belt
and my hands stay open.
Silent content replaces quiet rage.
A couple more years and I won't even remember
your name.
I've forgotten your words and the looks you'd give.
I don't remember the rooms we starved in
or the battles that left us broken.
You are gone.
I learned nothing from you other than how to stay angry.
But I've forgotten that too.
The air is warm
and my sweet tea sweats.
The rings left behind on the table top
speak deeper truths
than the things you tried to say.
Where ever you are,
I hope you stay there.