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Trust me nobody cares

They hung him on the royal mile

There was nothing left back there

Amongst discarded bottles of hard liquor
and empty pill containers
Someone had faintly scribbled on the nicotine stained wall
Call me
I truly feel your pain
This number makes it go away

Briefly

The mattress on the floor
Holes burned from spliff and cigarette
Opposite the dartboard
with used fits instead of darts
Fitting
being the dispensary just two streets down
Where they first met
When a taste was just that

That same mattress
Where she hit that final bullseye
Crossed the rubicon in his arms

Carpe_Noctem
Written by Carpe_Noctem
Published
Author's Note
The house that buried pain
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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