<p>is this how it works?<br>
in this room<br>
the hours of love<br>
still make shadows.</p>
<p><i><strong>Charles Bukowski, For Jane</strong></i></p>
<p>it always rains, now<br>
ain't no sunshine in my skies.<br>
how am I supposed to go on<br>
without you?<br>
and all that's left is grief<br>
my body heaves and jerks<br>
I haven't cooked a meal in weeks.<br>
eating from plastic throwaway trays<br>
passing crumpled currency to graveyard-shift clerks<br>
<i>is this how it works?</i></p>
<p>work kept calling<br>
so I cut the phone line<br>
letters pushed through the cracks in the door<br>
go equally unanswered<br>
was that a stone at the window?<br>
the lights stay off, I prefer the gloom<br>
buried deep under the duvet built for two<br>
swaddled like a babe I weep but <br>
the four walls echo back the silence of the tomb<br>
<i>in this room</i></p>
<p>you always told me to prepare for the worst<br>
yet promised the best was yet to come<br>
and you hid your black spots for so long<br>
until it was far too late<br>
that was your plan all along, and<br>
that's when push at last came to shove<br>
was it better this way?<br>
all I could do was watch until at last<br>
you were relinquished to whatever lies above<br>
<i>the hours of love</i></p>
<p>they tell me it'll get better<br>
that these pills will help<br>
but I keep washing them down with booze<br>
and though I see your face in everything<br>
I can't find you anywhere<br>
I've asked all my friends but no one knows<br>
maybe look inside<br>
chasing these phantoms with soda<br>
the ravens take flight from crossbeams and the gallows<br>
<i>still make shadows.</i></p>2020.09.08 – 2020.12.11