Wasted Away Poem by Zoe Guillory

A man sits alone at the bar.
His hat pulled over his eyes.
His hands frozen from the summer air.
His throat burning-but he still drinks.
And all his sorrows are swallowed.
Glass by glass
of amber bitterness.
Flashbacks are melted to a blur
of smoke and fear.
A car crash.
Where one survivor walked away
from the battlefield of machines.
Where one survivor walked away
from the shriveled body of one
that Death stole from him.
And so he sat.
His hat low. The shadow
covering the painful history in his eyes
as the glasses of morphine
lulled him to sleep.