Man Without a Ride

In your absence
I drink a lot of beer
I cry real tears
I feign the want to go outside

In this madness
I feed on them
thoughts of you with other men
what we had, wondering
which particular moment
when things went south

In this sadness
I bleed in ink, spilling blots
on paper, trying to connect the dots
finding no more gusto
than a man
waiting at the bus stop

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