Ovi poetry

Four o’clock in the morning and I woke up suddenly
scared from that inside sound.
Checked for you on my side
and you weren’t there,
c’est la vie, little voice screamed in my brain
and then again, que sera sera.

It’s not what I want anymore, baby;
it’s what life takes, what time gives
and then lets you dry.
All along with the bottle,
no ice, straight in the glass,
all the way down the throat.

Five o’clock and I know, baby,
You’re never coming back,
confirmed your replacement,
laying there full presence,
again on my side,
no ice, straight from the bottle.

Intentions unspecified, he glanced somehow
with approvingly familiarity over the alley,
entered and began a silent study of the faces on the street.

Moving past a tall guy with a dirty beard
and a wrinkled face with strong spirit smell, he grinned.
It was like looking at his own reflection.

Then he stared in silent amusement at the round figure
in dark green coat and striped man’s trousers, no shoes,
a flabby woman of medium height,

Short dirty hair, thick eyebrows,
a slim scar from mouth to chin on a face
that otherwise was undistinguished as a peeled potato.

He smirked and pushed further
to stop at a door that opened to spit a girl
attired in a black long dress holding a thick rolled mooster.

The girl stood her back on the wall,
studied the glowing tip of her smoke
to let the smell of weed to take over the alley.

“Last time we had the pleasure,” she said,
“was long time ago. I still remember you.”
He glanced at his wrist watch and said, “I was drunk.”

She shrugged, then she stood away from the wall
moved to the door, entered and closed behind her
leaving the memory of her smell in the alley.

Having reached no conclusion of the conversation
he moved further to find another door,
perhaps the liquor store,

the footfalls, the mysterious prowlers
of his addictions that can give him
another turn with the girl that smoked.

The air is silent tonight, no more secrets;
everything is out in the blue.
The stars are unvoiced, no more whine;
nothing in the dark.

It was a night like this she said she loved him,
and it was that once, but
among all the lies didn’t sound true;
like dirt after the rain.

Jan never answered back, there was naught to say,
he had learn very young
that love is for kids and the rich
And he was the filth of the poor.

Not that it did matter,
after all the stars didn’t care
and the air was silent
like everything should have been.

Sat on a red light,
watching my life going by;
so I made a stop in a small pub,
the only life glow in a dark alley,
“bourbon, no water, no ice”,
I asked, for the girl to reply,
“in the end we all die.”
I felt swiftly old.

I shouldn’t drink but
I cannot stop the thirst,
“fill it again honey”, I said,
“bourbon, no water, no ice”.
“Any favourites?” she asks,
“the one that slays faster,” I said.
I am old.

Implications,
inspirations,
insinuations.
You lied there dead,
heavily breathing,
numb and alone,
a carousel of horror.

Round and round and round
lifeless misdemeanour

Yearning for air
with the heart departed,
she walked away.

Round and round and round,
a crime only in my mind
with just everyone culpable.