I used to feel like I needed to be inebriated
even to whisper your name.
In truth, you broke my spirit,
ripped me at the seams until I unraveled.
Through blackbirds and rain songs,
I stumbled through the night,
howling words like a madman
practicing witchery or voodoo.
I did my damndest
to exercise the demons and let you go.
That is until I fell in love with the sadness
and nearly drank myself to death.
One day I woke up,
no longer afflicted by memories of your smile,
sold everything I owned,
purged my life of leaches and liars.
I still can’t help but think about you
as November rains fall, reminders of a time
when I crawled the ocean’s floor.
Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved
Photo by Bess Hamiti from Pexels