The Drunkard
The smell of your hair
There's beauty in your smile
No infection nor deceit
No feeling of denial
The touch of your hand
There's grace in your walk
But, depression whisks me away
Whenever there's hogwash in your talk
The color of your eyes
The sound of your breathing
The elation of your lies
My heart, is seething
No protection in your arms
The design of your body
Raising of your hand, causing alarm
For, I know what comes next
Me, on the floor, bloody
The comfort from your hugs
The feeling that I'm loved
Thrown against the wall
Down the stairs I go, shoved
All I can see are the bright surgeons lights
She comes and hugs me with all her might
Telling me she's sorry
It'll be alright
But as she lets me go
She whispers in my ear
She intends to kill me
And then, I cry in fear
I try to scream for dear life
She tries then, to choke me
But a doctor came in and saved me
For she will no longer be, my wife
They found her guilty
And sentenced her to jail
She pretended to cry that day
Only because there was ' no bail '
If I were to have stayed in my silence
There would've been more pain
The shows that the only thing
That comes out of a bottle
Is alcohol induced distain
Jim Casey 1985
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem