🖤 Unfinished Business 🖤 Poem by James McLain

The sun dies hard over the western hills,
Leaving red streaks like blood on the sea,
And I, with half a bottle of whiskey,
Wonder what's left, what's still waiting for me.

I said goodbye to a thousand faces,
Left them all in their endless places.
Wars I fought and nights I wasted,
Promises tasted, never embraced it.

The road ahead was always shorter,
But I marched it down, still a soldier.
Through smoke and fire, I walked on slow,
With too many stories I'll never know.

There's a letter unsent, somewhere in my mind,
A name I forgot, a hand left behind.
I never cared for second chances,
But I feel the weight of missed advances.

The moon comes up, cold as bone,
And the night reminds me I'm not alone.
Still, something lingers, lost in the dust,
Unfinished business, broken trust.