Message in the Bottle
Here is the table I set for dinner,
There is the glass you empty and fill.
There is the chair where I sit and I watch
As you knock your own to the floor.
There is the bottle that stands between us;
There is the hand that empties the glass.
There is the message that pours out like liquid.
Drowning the slam of the door.
10 comments:
There's nothing at all left to say.
gosh nice intensity in your words....i wonder if that bottle got in the way...hmmm...
Friko - right you are. And the next time the door slammed, I was the one doing it.
Brian - I lived a long time with someone who found his courage, and finally most of his reason to live, in a bottle. This is just one of our many moments and in the end, the bottle came between us.
A sad decision to give up on life
Damn booze. When will we understand dopamine? Certainly not by ignoring triggers; becoming able. I vote for a curricula of Brain Managing 101.
Superb poet you are.
I've known that feeling of sitting and watching.
Powerful poems - both yours and the one linked to at Table talk!
xxx
Mine was a glass of amber next to her hand, on her side table. But the sound remains the same.
Powerful... and so hard to know what this all meant for you back then.
oh, this just slayed me Pauline.
and thank you so much for joining the community of tables. I loved you meme answers above as well. I imagine we would get along quite well in real life.
OOTP - even sadder was that he didn't see it that way.
Brian H - thanks. I couldn't understand it either since i don't drink.
RJack - terrible, isn't it?
Hey RDG - good to see you!
Jeannette - it meant heartache, for sure. But, it's done and I'm still upright so all's well that ends well.
Deb - we would, indeed. Wouldn't it be fun to sit over tea and talk poetry?
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