09 by Eric Sparks

I watched the best people I know,
fall apart in the course of one singular night,
and we all called out, but the wind pushing our backs
kept the sound from finding our ears.

I’ve seen years burn, in just a couple of minutes,
I’ve watched brawls and falls between best friends,
I’ve heard laughter, poured out from a bottle of rum.

Shit, those hugs turned to punches,
“I love” turned to “Fuck,” and those carefree nights
turned into awkward, clumsy silences.

I’ve watched life, through that marijuana haze,
for several months at a time. I’ve slept through years,
when the clarity of sobriety infested my brain.

I’ve seen true love change to quiet, memorial embraces.

I’ve danced for a night, but was alone in the morning.
I waltz alone, most of the time.
Cute little squares.

I jumped off of my island, because it wasn’t
supposed to be home anymore,
but instead of flight, I fell,
and had to take the ferry back home,
to nurse my wounds.

I’ve danced around campfires, I’ve blacked out with them all.
We spill wine on the rug,
puke on the porch,
and play beer pong until dawn.

But after that party, my head hurt, my eyes were sore,
and my liver pointed a gun at its head. And when I woke up,
their cars were gone, with no note left behind.

This is no accusation, because when they've called,
I’ve pressed the red button as well. Texts I ignored,
emails unanswered, memory hurts like a scar.

Just remember, we see more backs than we ever will faces,
we see more mud than clouds, more of those trees fall than those that will grow,
we see more failures than anything.