I’ve lost a very dear friend
to alcohol.
Please don’t get me wrong,
he isn’t dead.
It’s just that when it comes
to hanging out,
he’d rather be getting shit-
faced instead.
He sits outside in darkness,
alone drinking,
I wait patiently, once more,
alone inside.
I’ve been missing his warm
affection.
After awhile I go off to bed
asking why.
Booze is killing what’s left
between us.
He spends more time with it
than myself.
There’s no more rope for me
to reel him.
With that he has, he’s finally
hanged himself.
~gj duerrschmidt
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