this
empty bed and
the shit loads of dust that keeps covering my stuff
no matter how many times i clean and clean
and clean
before growing bored and desperate
opening a beer that turns into two
beers that turns into
four
while listening to the useless cokehead
next door
talk talk talk for twelve hours straight without saying a single fucking word
of merit or
meaning
this bed
it’s the one you used to sleep in while i was at work
the one you would cry upon
and the same one i would suck your tits on while you stroked me off
until i kicked my feet and came
or passed out
because of too much wine
oh those beautiful
beautiful
times
A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.co.uk
A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.com
Categories: new poetry
Sometimes I think that I say too much, that it gets too gushy and then it all sounds a bit insincere – although the opposite is true. But I love this, Stephen.
It never sounds gushy or insincere to me, and I appreciate your words very dearly.
And I’m so pleased you enjoyed this one. It was nice to take a snapshot x
Wonderfully melancholy!
Thank you, my friend.
Beautiful ❤️
Thank you ❤