I had always wished for your return
to be like that of Odyssueus's.
A little world weary,
Battle scared and vague.
For you to sweep back into my life
hacking away my weed like woes
that had grown with vigour once
you left them and allowed them to return.
I imagined you sitting by my side
telling me of your tales
Like cowboys around a fire
sipping black metalic coffee
talking away the night.
And did the ease of not knowing
form into a smile when we met each
other in our reflecting eyes.
No
For this was not a book that could
be closed once the words dug
to deep, and this was not a movie
that could be silenced into nothing.
This was life, gritty and shit.
For you returned bruised, bloody
and broken with a bottle of whiskey
peeking out of your half hanging pocket.
Without one word offered you pissed
yourself on the 'welcome Home' rug
and collapsed in the doorway, the
same one you had left through two years before.
Not Long Left
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/welcome-home-stranger/
