Retreat

I made my way toward home aboard a bus,
The picture of defeat, disheveled, half
Hungover, half still drunk, with Amy's
Curses echoing through me. "You
Take, but you have given nothing.
Years have passed, but you don't
Change. I've found another, better,
Lover. Take your wine and cheese,
And go." I did, and, on that empty bus,
Too shocked to try to tell myself
That she had been unfair to me,
Or cruel, or that she would be the one
Who'd grieve now that I'd gone,
I lay down by my bottle and my bag,
And went to sleep.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 57 times
Written on 2017-11-21 at 13:23

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