Bars and cheap beer

I almost forgot what this was like,

the tables and the chairs

that’ve seen so many faces

are now seeing my own.

This is where

I always used to be,

places like this that know my kind

and never spare the kindness

through open doors

that lead in more often than out.

These are the rooms

where taps pour until empty,

where eyes stare until dry

and lips part only

for the words most meant.

If I could leave here tonight

I would,

but habits like these

are the hardest to break

and in a room built

on the kindness of strangers

all we keep are the whispers,

those words too hard to see,

but always the last

to let us forget.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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