No Chances Left
We were the pair from hell, different but tight,
like a memorable tune or a bad smell,
the first vodka shot of the night.
We were the dodgy burger you ate for lunch
that kept repeating, we'd stick in your throat
while you yelled for your mother.
I was the crazy one, you'd never know
which way I'd go, sometimes strong,
but out of control.
He was always down to earth, an edgy guy,
he'd ‘roll you over' given half a chance.
He wasn't straight at all……….
always good in a crisis but made me weep.
My suffering's all over now, I'm dead.
He still grieves though,
he clings to my grave like a limpet
longing to be let in…
No chances left……
‘take me down with you', he begs,
but a decaying corpse
doesn't really give a damn.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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