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written by: David Estringel



I heard, today, that you died
nine years ago.
My friend wasn’t sure—
said he heard whispers--
so he asked for your last name,
but I couldn’t remember
no matter how hard I tried.
Going down the list
in my mind,
yours was the only one—
a blank space
where my heart and mind—
maybe soul--
used to be.
No surprise.
It’s been fifteen years.
Why would I?
Why should I?
You left me
months before I walked out the door.
I was too much.
You weren’t enough—
at least that’s what you told yourself.
Nothing would change your mind.
You wouldn’t let it
And, now,
you’re gone.
So, here we are, again,
after all this time.
trying to feel.
a nameless shadow
on the tip of my tongue
that escapes me,
as always.
My friend thought it sad
to have been dead for so long
without anyone noticing,
but that is the way you wanted it.
Damn your love
of needles and straws
and backroom shame!
Damn, you
and your enemies within,
for not believing you were worth more!
No, you won’t get my tears--
not this time.
You’ve had your fill.
Bet they still taste as sweet.
But, you can have my hate,
dear Joshua.
Neither of us needs it,

David Estringel

David Estringel

David Estringel is a writer/poet, whose work has been accepted and/or published at Terror House Magazine, 50 Haikus, Setu, The Elixir, Soft Cartel, Harbinger Asylum, Former People Journal, Cephalopress, Merak Magazine, Printed Words, Digging through the Fat, Haiku Journal, Foxhole Magazine, The Basil O’Flaherty, Three Line Poetry, Agony Opera, Alien Buddha Press, Synchronized Chaos, The @baffled Haiku Daily, The Blue Nib, Fishbowl Press, and Horror Sleaze Trash. David can be found on his website at David A. Estringel. David recently published his first feature-length collection of poetry and prose Indelible Fingerprints (Alien Buddha Press).
David Estringel

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