trying to make it home

IMG20170731154312.jpgI could see she was exhausted,

as I took a drag from my cigarette

with a half-glass of cheap whiskey

in my other hand

ready for immediate consumption.  

She wanted to know where home was.

She wanted to know when she’d be there.

I peered at buildings and

people

and water

through the caged window

knowing that I couldn’t give her the answer

she desired.

I could only simply reply,

“when you’re with me,

you are home.”

I’m not sure she comprehended my sentence

since we were both drowning in our sorrow,

but I managed to steal one more kiss from

her – she always tasted like my soul mate;

fermented, tobacco coated, with an aftertaste

of codeine.  Hopeless,  

I fell asleep with my eyes open,

and like any soul mate would do,

she happily joined.

-JDR-