Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The Long Nights

The Long Nights

The nights I wake up
like a drowning man
the moment he breaks
through the surface finally
able to draw a breath.
The weight of disappointment,
thoughts of passion traded
for safety, heavy enough
to stop my heart. I lie awake
and try to recall what it felt like
when I was hungry and naked;
living in the wild.

The nights I am alone,
tormented by ghosts in the dark;
by the women that loved me
until I turned and ravaged them
in the glow of full moonlight.
Nights when the whiskey
won’t whitewash my sins
and help me forget their faces.
Like the wail of a distant siren,
their cries echo and taunt me
in the emptiness before dawn.



Eden Baylee said...

My favorite line "...thoughts of passion traded for safety..."

Claudia said...

hey steve...great seeing you in the pub.. passion traded for safety hit me most i think..probably because it brings back memories..i survive..but that's a story in itself..heavy and raw emotions and wonderfully written...

Pat Hatt said...

Can weigh heavy on our minds, that or who who chose over something or someone else. Great verse!

emmett wheatfall said...

I know exactly the sentiments of this poem, Marty. Been there and had that done to myself. A fabulous write my man.

Brian Miller said...

nice seeing you again man....and can def feel the weight of those memories in your words...and though we may at times try to drown them..still they seem to be there all the more...

Natasha Head said...

Well hello Poet! Awesome to be tending to the pub and seeing your words...this is freaking is dark, guilt ridden, core in it's tone...I've got the whiskey...and I'm pouring a double. IOU at least that...thanks again!

Anonymous said...

The waking up like a drowning man was especially vivid to me. Very well expressed. k.

Anonymous said...

Nights when the whiskey

won’t whitewash my sins

.. nice progression towards and away from this point.

Ginny Brannan said...

Was always told things seem worse in the middle of the night. It is when all the coulda, woulda, shoulda's come out to haunt us. Great capture.

Tracie Skarbo said...

Our hearts lay naked before the moon... wonderful job Steve!