HER WAY OUT by Jeffrey Littrell

 

the only answer
is that
there are no answers at all
no karmic justice is done
what goes around
just keeps right on going

things just are
until they aren’t anymore
or in her case
they never fucking were at all

she locked the door
she knelt in front of the bathroom mirror
by the filthy toilet,
and shuddered
at the metallic taste in her mouth
it was somehow easier
than she envisioned it would be

she lay still
and small
the blood pooled and congealed
on the linoleum floor
finally, she wouldn’t hurt anymore
she was free from her torment, yet
all she did
was pass it on to me

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About digthroughlife

I am a fifty-three year old poet who also writes fiction. I worked twenty-three years for the USPS, though never enthusiastically. I am a member of French Writers Worldwide and have had several poems published in French and Spanish. I hold strong opinions on music, film, and human rights. Some of my influences are Charles Bukowski, Arthur Rimbaud, Dylan Thomas, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Sylvia Plath, W.B Yeats, Bob Marley, William Blake, and Hunter S. Thompson. I'm an avid fan of the New York Yankees, Oakland Raiders, and Indiana Pacers. I like traveling by car. I enjoy seeing rock and alt-country bands in small venues. I hold a black belt in Taekwondo, but no longer spar due to injuries incurred in a motorcycle accident in 2005. I play acoustic guitar. I love Crown Royal whiskey and California Kush. Women are both the bane of my existence and all that sustains me. I believe strongly in the power of love and heartbreak. View all posts by digthroughlife

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