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Poetry

Empty Bottles

Hold me the way you hold that bottle of beer.
You hold it with such care.
I see the way you admire it from a distance
and the way that you share your secrets with each drop.

Spend your money on me instead of that liquor;
take me downtown for once.
I’ll wear the red dress,
maybe you’ll appreciate my curves the way you do that bottle.

Babe, you’re breaking the way the bottle does
after it comes crashing to the floor.
Pick me up instead of those shattered pieces.
But, don’t keep throwing me away the same as you do with those glass shards.

Love me the way you love to dissappear into the drink;
your safety and comfort;
the one that seems to be more of a home than I.

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by cmeehan

Mother + sister + daughter + wannabe writer. Located East of the Mississippi River, where the hills roll, rivers a plenty, forests are full, and skies are big.

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