Thom was a smart guy

Thom was a smart guy

Dedicating his life

To reconstructive surgery

Giving it all back

For being so lucky

He washed his hands vigorously.

We talked

As the hot tap ran

About times gone by

When he was a specialist in trauma

Before life took a better turn.

When he drank whisky without a glass

To see how quickly he could collapse

Jumped out of a window

To see how long it would take to regret it.

His wife walked out

High heels click-clacking away

If she had stayed, he might be dead,

Stabbed in bed

With a bright red shoe.

She always came back in the morning

Until one day she didn’t.

Waking up at the bottom of the stairs

In an empty house

Was a familiar routine

Until his bones gave up

Their compliance.

He quit playing at life

Before the bell rang

And his number was called

Dried out and sucked it up.

It wasn’t until he fell in love

With a redhead that he understood

How to have a good time

Without killing himself.

There was no mystery to it

She took his history

And rewrote it

Into a better story

One he could live with.

She taught him how to love

Showing him how

To feel good

Without the need

To hate himself in the morning.

“How lucky am I?”

How lucky indeed.

He counted his fingers

To be sure they were all there.

“I hold a world in my hands

And I am blessed.”

I fingered the bottle in my pocket.

Smiled reassuringly

And figured I still had

A lot of heavy lifting to do.