The pain, my mud-addled brain

The pain

my mud-addled brain

there is coffee yet

in that pot

for both of us

to sit across from each other

look dead and cry

each tear making

the coffee stronger

or maybe just blacker

your hot wasps

that drip, drip, drip

and my world rips apart

this pain

my mud-addled brain

is a reimagining

of an encounter

with those mates

who left the ship

untethered and uncared for

in the storm which I found her

she was already dead inside

infested with rats and loneliness

ghosts of those that stayed behind

lurking in shadowy corners

haunting expectant visitors

maybe they do it for laughs

maybe they can’t laugh anymore

maybe you will come aboard this

ship once more and I

will put on a pot of coffee

for old times’ sakes

come hither and die with me

I know you would if you could.

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