October 7th.

At twenty-one, thirty-one; forever & one

I’ll reach out to you 

In hopes of quelling the hurt from one hundred to none. 

 

I’ll chose you, always you 

I did at twenty-one, and thirty-one

I am right now; this is true

One hundred, knowing it should be none. 

 

Because these are false choices 

Because it's just the ghost of you 

Not the soul of you 

Because it’s loving a false god 

Whispering painful wishes and heavenly edicts 

In memories of whiskey-growling voices.

 

Because it’s loving a false god 

And the disciple of false promises

And praying this time, maybe this time 

Maybe not.