Dec. 20, 2016
One day you will wake up with me hundreds of miles away no longer loving you.
Has it sunk in yet?
You got away with murder and here I am this walking shell trying to find my ghost.
She’s hiding in the cracks of your grandmother’s couch cushions.
Buried under the cactus in the dry desert dirt.
She’s waiting for me in the bottle at the pub your friends frequent.
They don’t make eye contact with me and they choose the bourbon instead.