*The days have grown dim
and the nights slumber-less
piles upon piles of papers
clustered against the wall
it's ink rots and whither's
against the strands of time
tormenting me with unpaid bills
and threats of a foreclosed home
The idle threats of separation
have grown familiar, the sparks
of romance no longer seem apparent
I question our vows....
I question my church and I question my religion
rosaries wrapped around my throat
suffocating the faith that I still have left
These wine bottles have become my god
I drink the blood like it's water
the water cleanses my sins and blind my senses
it's sweet but bitter
I wonder.... What if.....
but, if I knew the answer
then perhaps this gun
would not be laying upon my nightstand....
What if...... What if......*
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
*The days have grown dim
and the nights slumber-less
piles upon piles of papers
clustered against the wall
it's ink rots and whither's
against the strands of time
tormenting me with unpaid bills
and threats of a foreclosed home
The idle threats of separation
have grown familiar, the sparks
of romance no longer seem apparent
I question our vows....
I question my church and I question my religion
rosaries wrapped around my throat
suffocating the faith that I still have left
These wine bottles have become my god
I drink the blood like it's water
the water cleanses my sins and blind my senses
it's sweet but bitter
I wonder.... What if.....
but, if I knew the answer
then perhaps this gun
would not be laying upon my nightstand....
What if...... What if......*
Request permission to use this poem