Coming Undone

I have slept
alone for several years
in this basement six feet below
the filth of the earth.

There have been nights
full of night terrors and tremors
when I have fallen
asleep in another tangled bed,
on someone
else's collapsing couch,
splintered floor boards,
on a broken, graveyard bench
even in a thick thorned ditch,
but never have I fallen
in the arms of the right woman.

All the booze and blackouts
have taken away my love and light
that used to shine from my face;
I have become undone,
like stitching in and old
pair of frayed jeans.