Checking in

“I kinda figured you were at home, crying.”

“Yeah? Where else would I go to to cry?”

“You could go to the bar. I’m glad you’re not that type.”

“My poison of choice is ice cream. The only bar for me is Klondike. Besides, sometimes its ok to cry.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

This is War

The evil black and red and gory

Rises like a tide the undertow

Is threatening

To move my arms against it

Is difficult- hot and thick and unpleasant

But I have to do it

Muscles straining

Because you can become

Lost within it

Our bone shards breaking

In every direction

 Or you can become

My every thing

I wage a war against it

My goodness

His goodness is like an apple

Simple, sweet, thin skinned

Mine is like a cigar

Loaded with additives

That tend to make you blacken

From within

But oh, 

when he takes a drag of me

He just feels such relief

So he keeps smoking

And I try not to blacken him

For all my bitterness

I have to admit

That this is working

But the effort I put in

Can also be a killing thing