Image for the poem stranger to love

stranger to love

deep in the melancholy.
you just get so familiar with it that’s it’s comforting.
the only comfort there is.

last call has come & gone. Tommy the bartender says
go home. says we can’t stay here. some of us would
sleep folded up on the bar. drink whiskey for breakfast.
drink whiskey till it kills us.

the cocktail girl pats my shoulder, says be careful out
there, Lonesome John. she calls me that because of the
somber mask I wear: the antithesis of Sardonicus. I
wonder if she goes to a lonely place, but she doesn’t
talk about it.

the lachrymose fog reflects my pluvian demeanor. on a
park bench, under the moon’s tears, I gather with the
ghosts of the star-crossed, a desolate choir singing the
blues in the night. we need a drink, a hit, a fix, anything
to murder the elegy of solitude.

had a woman once. she did things I’ve only seen in porn
films. said I’d have to tie her up to keep her. I told her if
she belonged here she’d come back. she never did.

been so long since I laid down in a warm bed & held
someone who was holding me, my heart is a foreign place.
I’m the sad song unsung, the bullet unfired. I’m the
revenant of a beautiful dream.

a stranger I am  –  a stranger to love…

Written by JohnFeddeler
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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