Rusted Ring Poem by Kiran Singh Bista

I am cold in your thoughts that once kept me warm
A moaning heart sinking upon a beer barm
Grim faced people and an annoying Irish band
A perfect place for broken hearts who can’t soberly stand
Across the doorway a pimp trades his show
I know it’s a bread that drove that woman to an old men’s door
As the time goes by
I keep pouring to fill me within
Yet an abyss to fill around my rusted ring
I got no one to see and none awaiting at home
The bar shuts down and I walk to the nearby tomb
And I walk to the nearby tomb