It’s not a little water,
it’s an ocean that sweeps between.
He is lost, beyond poorly, too deep
in his thoughts, as if
to turn a key might unlock them all,
uncork his head of
regret and guilt and neglect.
It is a repetition in his ear.
The dregs of him.
But his unruly heart
is a weakness, and his thoughts
are vapours beyond words.
He sleeps, unconscious, as his
devils leave him behind.
Written for Miz Quickly’s “Deal Breaker” – write about a deal breaker without actually mentioning it. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021