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July 04, 2022

Letter to Brenda Before Nightfall

By Daniel J. Flore III

Letter to Brenda Before Nightfall

lately
I've been forcing out
something to say
which is really hard
when you spend your life
on the butt of a cigarette,
the butt of a joke that isn't funny

I'm lost keys
wiped off at the welcome mat
I wish I had someone to talk to --
lonely days where I imagine
the people of my past
ghosts of the quiet suburban night
in the middle of a sentence
I can't make out

in bed it looked like death went through my index finger
it kinda scared me
madness isn't romantic or a Netflix movie
it's downright weird to me, that's all

I guess I want God to take me somewhere
some night or day
where there is exuberance and maybe a hard lemonade
I can't get off my ass and do it myself

the cars roll by
the robin zooms across the parking lot in flight
could you call me Danny like everyone did when I was a kid?
because I just can't get past myself
into the sweet spring air
that I remember being there,

-- sitting on top of a shed thinking of you
almost like I could touch you







Article © Daniel J. Flore III. All rights reserved.
Published on 2021-10-04
Image(s) are public domain.
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