The Beer Cans Are Still Here ~ by Bob Kesh

When we were together

the room was filled with my empty beer cans

and her clothes.

. . . the beer cans are still here.

 

At first it was all perfume

and cigarettes.

Then naked skin

and dirty sheets.

Then

greasy hair

and baggy eyes.

Then,

nothing.

 

. . . the beer cans are still here.

 

All that was left of her were,

two pairs of knickers,

and some dirty photos.

. . . the beer cans are still here.

 

I’d come out

worn down but not beaten.

I had a lot left but nothing to do with it.

Fire in my soul

and head

but not in my

heart,

or

hands.

I settled down to the bottom

and waited.

 

…the beer cans are still here.

 

It seems,

there will be

more

… empty

beer cans.

bobkesh

A writer and musician from London currently studying at the Faber Academy. Generally nocturnal, he can be found indulging in all the pleasures and pains of the night.

Contact him at bobkesh @ hotmail . co .uk (with no spaces)

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