Pieces of a Man

An empty house 

Except for the discarded beer 

Bottles that spill out over the 

Trash can 

A stained, worn-out couch sits in the corner

Of the living room 

Once upon a time there lived 

A vibrant, young man with his

Beautiful bride, his angel, in this 

Place they called home until tragically 

his angel passed on

Her picture still remains on the mantel 

How lonely he seems and 

Yet he masks his loneliness by

The lascivious behavior seen

In the string of women 

That share his bed 

On any given night

Even still he’s empty inside

Despite his youth he has grown 

old and tired looking

His heart torn and tormented 

He drinks his life away one 

Bottle at a time

His pores secrete the stench of stale 

liquor

The dampness of the unheated house 

Settling in his veins 

He wants to keep running, never 

Stopping, never taking the time to 

Mend his broken spirit

I see him sometimes selling fish at 

The market, just trying to maintain 

I understand why his house is not a 

Home anymore and I understand why 

He must never stop, why he must

Pretend to be happy when he’s out

On the town, and yet the broken 

Pieces of his heart continues to 

pierce his insides – the bleeding 

Never stops – the emptiness remains

I often pass by his place at dusk 

When the sun is settling down for the 

Night and 

I hear the sobs of torment coming 

From inside

As I reach to knock I draw back and let 

Him just have that time

I silently pray “Lord please help him heal” and 

I continue on……..