heartbreak as a drug dealerA Poem by jb
i meet him
(because, of course, he is a man- mid twenties, thin - with ribs sticking out like park benches - and yellow-toothed) in the dark at first. i go when no one is looking, so that i do not feel guilty for taking what he gives me. i tell myself this is just temporary; i will stop seeing him soon and then i can pretend i do not know him. weeks knock on months's door and suddenly i am knocking on his, again, in the middle of the day. he swings his door open, piss drunk, breath reeking of vomit, wife beater hanging off his left shoulder and i don't think he notices let alone cares, and i ask him when the last time he showered was. he grumbles back a "no", frowns, then, an "i don't know" and i hear my voice. i blink and i see myself standing there: piss drunk, vomit-breathed, bare-shouldered (and uncaring). this man (middle-aged, thin, yellow-toothed) has started to look a lot like a mirror. i reach out and close the screen door, still able to see him or me, or this mirror collapse and i am grateful, finally, that i have a knack for shattering.
© 2017 jb |
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Added on September 3, 2017 Last Updated on September 3, 2017 Tags: poem, poetry, heartbreak, poet, drug dealer, drug, love, loss, drunk, alcohol |