The disease..

September poetry number thirteen. A re-write. Written in 1988.

The disease..

(Written in 1988 in a dark tavern.)

Two strangers sat together.
Discussing things that didn’t matter.

  The woman looked at the man and she told him.
I was once a beauty once and
men begged for my attention.

 He whispered to her.
Beauty is one less burden.
For I can see what you really have become.
You have nothing to hide now and
you became what you truly are.

  He smiled and he kissed her forehead. He told her.
Laughter and good drinks are the answers now.

  She smiled and told him..
You are ugly with hate.
A sad end for a man,
who held so many dreams.

  He looked into the mirror.

He saw a old and tire man and he told her.
Dreams are what the children hold on to.

 It comes a time,
when you realize.
We are all greedy b******s wanting too much or
too little.

  She looked away.
He tried to explain his disease isn’t so special.
It is many ways to died and
I have chosen my way to finish my journey.


  She asked him to come home with her.
He thanks her for the kind offer.


  Her eyes.
Full of anger for a second and
she would not except his excuse for not desiring her.


  Her voice.
Changed to a softer tone,
like a Doctor finding a new disease.

  She wondered how any man could not desire her?
She licked her lips and she told him.
I could teach you to hunger again?

Make you want to swim in the heat of the warm flesh.


  He gave her a hug and
he whispered into her ear.
I danced in the turmoil of the flesh so often.
I don’t desire to feel the hunger to enter
into the game of the flesh anymore.

  He kissed her lips and her forehead,
his hands felt the softness of red hair.

  Her eyes are shining now.
Still trying to figure a way to break down
his walls of safety.


  She whispered  and brought him closer to her body. She told him.
I will make you yearn for me.
Men are but fool’s wanting for a purpose.

   He smiled and he told her. In time we all become the master or the slave.
Looking for someone to pray to or become the servant.
  A screw-up game of give just enough.

  Love has become the most worthless of the four letters words.

She asked him to go home with her again..

He lifted his drink to her.
Told her. You are still young and may have a chance?
Honey, walk away from this bar.
Only the walking dead are waiting for death.
Are here.

  She kissed his face many times.
Young woman with so many scars and
she whispered. I love you old Poet, my kind friend.

  He watched her walk away and
he does a silence prayer.

  He prayed for her to be Okay.

Don’t end up twisted up and have no place to be,

but the darkness and loneliness of bars and taverns.
                 Coyote
                  1988

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Rifatt Mir]

A story with perfect ending.

Nice story telling, I walked away with the women but I still know what the stranger wished for her. Excellent piece of writing

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Rifatt. I appreciate the comment.

[Weeping willow]

What a wonderful story poem, It kept to the end, felt all your words.Captivating in all its form. I enjoyed the read ;-}

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you my dear friend for reading and the comment,.

[Just Kim]

This is quite a story, Wow, so nicely written, like the imagery.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Just Kim. Once, I lost my true love for the third time. I got station in Texas. I fell in love with Austin and I find better and safer things to love. I appreciate the comment.

[W. Barrett Munn]

So many great lines in this offering that keeps you as unbalanced as the lives being described.
Winston

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you W. Barrett Munn. I appreciate the comment.

[supernova_thoughts]

This had a touch of pain, care, wisdom, and together, love. I realized, by the end, that I was wishing for her the same. Great write.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.

[John the Baptist]

Either she was selling something or desperate to deny the encroachment of the years. The poet did well to bid her go. There was trouble there, and he let it be someone else's. Sometimes wisdom does come with age.

[Coyote Poetry]

Sometimes, we can be, and we can become old in mind. Time for all things and thank you for reading and the comment.

[Melinda McQueen]

You brought me along for a story of long ago.
Nicely done.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Melinda for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.