Empty

                     Empty

Long days, sour kisses, same old bed.

Empty rooms inside of me.

The news, who cares if the world ends.

That bottle I been thinking all day.

The smoke of this cigar, déjà vu.

Long walks on cold nights, 3d dreams in a two lanes drive.

Melancholy full of hugs, flower smell of lie.

This darkness that hold me tight, sour kisses; life strange somewhat.

That church who quiet my cries, tells me I’m not that same man

 New stories will not last.  

Long days, who cares if the word ends.

I fly; me? I getting by, me? I dream while the smoke remembers.

I…I can’t love the one that never was

Me? I’m no more

Cheap wine a moment of lust

Making love, distant ghost.

A guitar, the sound of the moon, the smoke  

I am nothing, I no more.

Without you my love I… I’m no more.  

               Billiva

Reviews

[J. K. Beach]

This is beautifully melancholy... I can hear the droning thrum of the Spanish guitar outside the window, smell the stale smoke of a cigar in the room and see a despondent young woman through the dusky light of the moon sipping her stale wine and wishing for the life giving presence of her beloved. Well done, Billva!