I'm a writer, a poet, a dreamer. Born and raised in New York City. I now live in Daytona Beach, Florida. .
Another tequila sunrise,
found him bleary-eyed
he started to wonder -
how many more would kill him.
It was his routine,
to stumble about,
trying to remember
what day of the week it was,
trying to put together the pieces -
of his shattered life since she said good-bye.
Fool for falling in love,
cursing his stubbed toe,
he pulled on the cleanest jeans
and shirt he could find.
Then put on his rose colored glasses,
that let him walk about a world -
that seemed colorful if somewhat hazy.
He walked about streets,
lost and awash in a sea,
of uncaring faces,
remembering too many familiar places.
Her words still rung in his ears,
as she had cried crocodile tears,
something about needing a new life -
something about nothing he understood.
She had taken his heart,
so carelessly thrown it aside
and now he didn’t know where to hide,
the booze kept him numb,
it was the best he could be
and by the time the day was done,
he walked into an empty, cold house,
hoping he’d be dead -
before another tequila sunrise came shining on him.