Back to where I was the day before we met with competing dial tones
Back when I held myself upright, self-esteem shone through every pore of my being.
Back to when I held a plastic cup like a sad, lonely kid — as the liquor seeped between my fingers, hitting the ground like a blanket slapping the floor
Back to the new me before the odor of cigarette smoke crushed my resolve to retract what I said last Sunday.
Back when her widened eyes weren't glazed with pot
Back to me
I slept it off and came over the next day (just like she knew I would),
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Position of Neutral
PoetryBen's throat cancer has returned. Living a lonely life, he found a woman he loves but finds out she's been unfaithful. Ben starts to think the lonely position of neutral isn't that bad. He writes poems and dialogue narratives. Will Ben survive cance...
