In the Interim

I'll drink. There's nothing else to do.
I'll give my thanks for little pills which
Tell the brain it's not so sad. Without
Them, I think I'd be dead. I'll read.
I'll try to watch TV instead of staring at
The clock, and grimly noting that she's
Gone, and, pills and alcohol be damned,
I'll be dead until she is back. She
Won't be for a week.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 55 times
Written on 2015-10-16 at 23:38

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