There are times

There are times

When I am

Completely hollowed out

Empty all the way down

From the sickly sweet smile

Which I give to greet the bartender

To my old black boots

Scuffed and scratched to buggery.

The drink tastes like cat spray

When it is cornered by a pack of dogs

Hard against the fence

Claws suitably manicured

For maximum effect.

All of them are on the prowl tonight

Looking to find a place

In the hierarchy

Without the need

For human compliance.

I go home carrying the stink with me

The emptiness is just as deep

As it ever was

I am greeted by a cold room

Cheap sheets

A flatpack table and a wardrobe from

A second-hand store

It has a shelf missing

I know if I were to find her there

She would be full of difference

The way her mind worked

When she was in conversation

Sharp as a tack

Ready to backtrack

Change her position

As the mood took her

It had been wonderful

And confusing

Annoying and endearing

I never told her

How every day was a different story.

I thought I would die in my sleep

It was what woke me up

But she did.

I guess

It was a final act of love

Going without a fuss

Leaving me to fill the space

With hollow words

Too much anger

To be around people

And an emptiness

No amount of drinking can fill.

And yet, here I am drowning

How weird is that

As a rule, women have so much more

Depth to their story

There is a nuance

To their grief, I can only envy

Take a swipe at

With a badly timed joke

It is the nature of life

To be uncomfortable

In my own skin

You would think I would be used to it by now

But I’m not.

You would think it would give me insight

But it doesn’t

Just fills my boots

With the stink of my own shit

Daring me to carry it home.