wait forever by John Sweet

wait forever


the afternoon stained w/ salt,
                                              w/ rust 

the houses that no longer matter

everything burns in the end,
and everyone is consumed

we fight, you and i, over things that will 
mean nothing in another month

i lock the doors after my
children leave for the weekend

i consider not suicide but the idea of it

watched a man once jump from a
bridge on the other side of town

watched him fall thirty feet then
punch through the ice, and it was
three months before he was found,
and it was 120 miles away

it was just before the birth of my oldest boy,
and i remember being in love w/ a
women i hadn’t seen in fifteen years

i remember it was snowing on the
night she broke up w/ me, and what i’ve
come to let my life be defined by
are empty rooms

small, pointless moments in time

windows w/ distorted views of
bluegrey landscapes, and what i’ve
come to accept is that i can’t end the war

what i’ve come to understand is that
none of us can save the lost

that the weak will always be
easier to destroy than the strong

and it’s so goddamned easy to convince 
yourself that they asked for it

​

John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A FLAG ON FIRE IS A SONG OF HOPE (2019 Scars Publications).

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