My Sunset Poem by chris schwartz

She didn't want his music
To play her end.
She didn't want the fingers
On his keyboard
Saying goodbye
To her very best friend.
She just wanted the dream
That everyone else
Seemed to have had
Took her whole life to get there
And just a second
For it all to end.

Talk about winning
The hand at the poker table
Playing your cards
Gambling like you were able
To beat the odds.
Cards stacked against you
Like the cigarette smoke
That you can't kick.
Burning the candle
Watching the wick,
Die so slowly,
Upon time,
So quick.
Listening to the wind
And hoping it calms
But morning comes
Andblows in another regret.
Damn,
I hate my head.

At the end of the night
I curl with him now
Sure wish I could give him
The thunderstorm.
Like I did.
Don't want to be ready
For the f-5.
But I know it's coming.
We're never ready
To face the next five,
When the last ten years
Still haunt our minds.
Think I'll cast
Crazy
To the arms
And slumber
With someone
Just like me.