The breath of the wind raises hairs on her neck.
She breathes out a clouded breath of whiskey fire.
Outside the venue, she kicks her shoes, waiting.
Where's the loser on the drum kit?
She knows she blows the set with her absence, but she can't
Stop tapping her heel at the wall, measuring splits in bricks
With her nicotine fingernails.
Where's She? She's such a *****.
The whole day closes in, in an instant, night descends.
Her twentieth cigarette dances in a rush to end it,
But her eyes catch sight of the mauve and indigo sky through
Buildings over bridges. Twilight ignites her quarter candlestick.
Outside the venue she kicks her shoes, waiting.
Outside her lonely lungs drink carcinogen
to an eager death with smokers. Cough.
Cough cough cough
Cool as ice.

I wonder how she does,
How she does not to break.

I wonder how she did
When they woke her up at dawn.

I wonder how she does,
When she lies down in an empty bed
With only cold sheets to cover the wounds.

When night falls, when silence graces her
Do the thoughts torment her?

I wonder how she does,
To keep, always, her eyes dry
To keep the tragic from withering her face,
Not to destroy herself.

I wonder how she does,
To keep on going.
I admire her.

Upon this thought, I realise
This is a strength I will never have.

I do not want her to break.
I do not.

“Mum?”

Vanishing from everyday life,
Walking an empty road,
A wraith is looking for the ghost he holds tight to his heart in his dreams.

Hearing ghosts from the past
Around the bend,
Haunting him walking along the road of life.

Dreams driving him insane,
Hello, where are you?
Let me see you.

All he sees is an empty road ahead with no love in site,
Writing love letters to a dream every day,
Letters tossed into a desk drawer of memories.

Vanishing from everyday life,
A wraith is walking an empty road, looking for his lost wife that walks with him in his dreams from a thousand years ago.

Copyright © 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.