The cold sun tears
through the window
strangling the brown
cotton curtains
and the night dies
against the wall
in blood splatters
of dried red
dawn bleeds like
this when cut too deep
leaving the new day
painful to see
she was still
mumbling to the stars
crazy words
that once meant
something to midnight
when she danced with
the darkness
alone, recklessly
and free
moving her body to
things that removed the hurt of rejection
only to stumble back
home
misunderstood
like a worn woman
off the streets
and I found her like
that
this morning
laying at her front
door
carried her to her
bed
she reeked of sweat,
booze and tobacco
left her there
to wriggle around on
the mattress
drowsy and feverish
warm
a damaged devil
beneath an angelic white sheet
and this same
morning
later
I came around again
to check if she is
ok
“You need some
coffee?” I ask her
she mumbles
something again
while I count the
storm damaged boats coming in
cracking the sea’s
glass
no one cares
about her or the
boats
only me
about a woman who
should have been dead
and boats that never
should have made it home
a thousand times
over
“Mazzy, …can I make
you coffee?” I ask her again
She keeps on
mumbling
it makes no sense
“Thank you….” she
says eventually
“…for putting me to
bed”
“No problem, …you’ll
be ok?”
“Yeah…”
“I’ll be back a bit
later”
“OK…”
and I leave her
bedroom
lock her apartment
door
I’ll come around
later
to see
if she
is ok….
Conrad Kruger van
den Bergh (Copyright, 2016)
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