w h i t e w i n e l i e s

40 5 2
                                    

you've spilt

your white wine lies across

the tiles of the kitchen floor

intoxicated smiles from

the girl next door.

sweatshirt wreaks like

last night ciggerettes

stolen from the pack

on the broken windowsill

of your families home.

i feel like i'm losing everyone

one by one.

names crossed off a list that use

to be named extended family.

sad to see your name next

as you sit sulking in your

white wine lies from curbs

out front the high school.

soak them up 'cause

i'm done.

done being the leaf pile

that people jump in

when nothing else is around

i deserve more then empty

hellos down the hallway strech.

take your white wine lies

somewheres else.

i though you were my friend

i guess we can't always be right

in the end.

9:11

altercation of self-actualization《poetryWhere stories live. Discover now