There in the corner

My stack of journals

And notes

Is the bourbon

The perfect line I just wrote

—-

I wonder if you will ever understand

You wonder if I could ever hold you

Like I hold words

—-

How do you separate

All of the salt from the sea?

How do you separate our two hearts

From the beats

——

And wake up alone

In the heat of the night

Out of the darkness

I talk to Death and to God

We drink our coffee

And write notes

But it’s nothing to see

Death is too tired anymore

And God is just a war vet with a broke heart used to the pain …

——

And I’m doing time in these mountains

Afraid I’ll never be happy

Wondering what’s left of me?

Is there anything left to see?