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to sit and sip
in silence
is all I request

just me and
my thoughts
and a bottle left
on the bar

with a full pack
of smokes,
the jukebox low

some napkins
for scribbling down
notes and bones
of poems…

just leave me be
with my angels
and demons

the angry ghosts
of my dead
and the tangled
threads

of straighter paths
I very well
may have taken

if only

I hadn’t been
so hell-bent

on being me

 

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