Tag Archives: addiciton

Him, you, them

IMG_0392

He made me fall in love with him
and then he got me hooked.

He got clean, I couldn’t, he left.
Funny, huh?

up

This poem, with very little editing, is based on a postcard I saw at PostSecret.com, a site where people anonymously mail in their secrets. I was at first struck with the simple, yet powerful rhythm of it, but then, clearly, the issue: on the one hand it is brutally honest to the reader, but on the other, brutally self-deceiving for the writer; notice how she refuses ownership of her issues. No wonder she cannot get clean. She is pitiable, but lost to everyone until she finds herself.

up

Thank you for reading Him, you, them. I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain, and as always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken at the Boston Commons subway stop. For more photography, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

john

Photograph, poem and notes © 2014 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2014 by John Etheridge,  https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use or reproduction in any way, unless so granted in writing by the copyright owner.

Advertisements

4 Comments

Filed under Poetry

A quiet tale of a scalpel and a brush

You have a thief’s hands, you do,
a lover’s lips, a liar’s tongue
and a drunk’s sure hand for the cure.
How often I’ve let you make me,
severing lips from hope
and painting my eyes shut…

I know you, I do;
I know you as I know the way
pain runs sweet and slow
down my broken back;
I know you as I know the way
I drain and flow to your will,
wanting more, yearning less,
mute to you all the while;
I know you as I know the way
I lay helpless in your gaze,
searching for you, searching for me,
searching for the surcease of I-don’t-know-what,
but searching all the same.
We know, don’t we? We know.

Thank you for reading A quiet tale of a scalpel and a brush. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.

11 Comments

Filed under Poetry