your heart is the bottle of jack held snug
in between your hands
the heavy sighs of regrets flows into the rhythm of the slurred tales smothered at the tip
of the bitter choices; your tongue and its companion
the curiosity hidden in the wrinkles of your lips has leaped, died
& turned into a tale for prying innocence
like a child with no taste for exotic lies
one whose father went on an adventure to a world with no family & no love it’s just
Him, peace and weary smiles
one who kicks the dirt that covered his father’s eyes praying it feels what he feels
a selfish pain with no one to sneer against
one who grows up to hold a pretty girl’s hand
& buy her roses
read boring fiction like a eulogy &
kiss her forehead anytime a
a wrinkle ticks and a thought is trapped
answer her questions with an honesty that offends the sky, he treats her like the things
he admired from afar as a child. she
the new superhero toy,
the fastest car on the plastic lanes or the comic book with so many pages.
treasured, admired &
cherished till all that was left was what could be seen
a skeleton with no bones to carry
the weight of all that was left behind
he closes her eyes and threads the dirt on her clothes
hoping it’ll turn to her skin somehow
walks till all that is visible is the sun’s pity in his line of sight
the lights are always off, lamps always broken
the books too worn out to reflect her smiles
the striped porch with its many uninvited inhabitants becomes his bed
with a bottle held closely to his chest
neck tilted up as if to ask for more stories about her
the neighbors say all they heard were rumbling bottles rolling & crashing, muffling the name
being called for right before he was dragged
limp and lifeless with
a shard of glass on his left palm
& a heap of sand clenched in the other.