It was fathers day
a weak kneed holiday
drizzled on the calendars like a storm warning
All I could do was promise
that there was life after July
the desperation within my lies on fire

there was still so much music we hadn’t heard
so many places our first-class tickets had yet to expose
but with death knocking down our front door
time started to leak from our faulty kitchen sink.

the yard needed trimming
we sat side-by-side against a sorbet sky
dissecting the life we had just began living
your prescription pills provided goodnight kisses to sleepy lashes
I was swimming through a summer high




One thought on “Mournings

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s