I 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
through the caged window
knowing that I couldn’t give her the answer
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.