If your mind falls apart again
in shattered figments of a wine drenched eve,
keep your head up well.
Do not drown in the toilet bowl. Not yet.
This too will pass like kidney stones.
Bereave your hangover of untrue memories
by drinking water from the tap. Get sober.

We have been there my friend,
we all have met each other
in the gap where you have been,
between the party flavoured fantasy
and the taste of moulded paper in the morning.
It’s where the truth lies buried
and guilt hides under cork.


Comments on: "Aftertaste" (10)

  1. Another brilliant poem! L&H xx

  2. Great stuff, full of powerful imagery and bruising directness of image

  3. “This too will pass like kidney stones” – that’s a simile and a half!

    “the party flavoured fantasy” – !!!!!

  4. NICE. I oughta print this out for a couple of people I know and have known in my life. πŸ™‚

  5. Ina, another great poem!
    It’s good to be reading your work again, Ina. I’ve been very behind on blog reading but am on “vacation” this week (from doctor appointments, etc.) and trying to get caught up with my favorite poets. πŸ™‚

    • Hi Betty, thank you very much. I know about being behind reading; so am I!

      I hope you will be well. Take good care of yourself!

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