A empty bottle…

A empty bottle..

My whiskey dreams, my last grasp at love or the emptiness at the end of the empty bottle. The broken pieces of my life laid shattered. Once sweet songs had turn sour.

I remember she bought a white Summer dress for the days of late Spring. I was away fighting other people battles in far-away wars.  She wore the dress for me and wrote me a letter with kind and sweet words with the photo of her blue eyes, gentle smile and white Summer dress. She wrote me. The Summer days are here and I’m waiting for you.

Cluster of memories are swimming in my head. Sweet song, pretty smiles and the memory of the slow dance with her near. She told me once. She is imperfect. Body with too little or too much. Who would want a lady with the tattoos of sin and taking the wrong path? I told her. She was perfect and so fine.

I lay broken for the last time, does not matter, sour mash, beer or wine. He has everything that once was mine.

The notes I sing now are sour-on my tongue, no longer are they as sweet as were when we sang melodies in the dark together, when we were young; wasn’t it just yesterday

The dancing, I shall remember always, the dancing that set us free; the dancing that brought you to me and made the world a better place for two young people full of wonder.

No one has ever needed me, and it is for this reason alone, don’t you people see….what you have done? Just a kindness here or there, reaching out to me as if to share, ah, but you are all, oh, so, cold

John Castellenas/Coyote