Laying With Lonesome Poem by mark king

Laying With Lonesome
By Mark King

She stands before him
With tears streaming
Down her blue eyes
After the show
He felt something wrong
Because she stayed
In the dark corner
Of the bar

He is tired from the nights
With twists and turns
His senses numbed
Without the stage lights
Or the speakers screaming
In his hand is a glass
Of Johnny Walker
As he sips
It eats at something
He cannot put his finger on

He slowly looks her over
Her hands are shaking
But he not asking why
He just pulls her close
For comfort
Feeling her soft skin
And her soft hair
It is so familiar
Like a comfortable
Pair of ragged jeans

Looking into
Those beautiful blue eyes
He sees they no longer shine
In the spirit of love
She whispers in his ear
She is tired, so tired
Of the grind, the road
And all uncertainties

They met months ago
And never looked back
At each other
He says little
Knowing he is a slave
To fate, chance and the music
It is down to motions
When emotions are spent
They say bye
And turn their backs
To lay with lonesome