The bar feels like home
With dead flies in the corner
And a mist of cigarette smoke
Floating beneath the dingy
yellow light that flickers
Over a creaky pool table
As the TV hums in the background
Each glass of dark amber relief
Carries me further into
A numbed state as I retreat
Away from the call of a
Broken life beyond the heavy metal
Door that symbolizes my mind
As I briefly chat with the barman
To sate my loneliness for a while
Before I sip the final glass
Out cold I become across
the sticky bar stools.
K.G. Munro is an author and poet. Here are a few of her writing credits: Indian Periodical, Ink Pantry, The Wombat Post, Pawners Papers, Reformed Journal, FreshOutMag, Spillwords, Scottish Book Trust, Mad In America, Earthly Comforts and Humans Of The World Blog.
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