My Poetry: Late Night Apology

You once handcuffed me

with daisy chains

under weakening skies

as the last pale blue drained

from summer hum

in a suburb of a city

I'd never heard of, 

till we moved here.

Now atop that lonely hill 

in a lazy field

I empty foreign beer bottles.

I finish the first

but my rage is till thirsty.

Drinking alone is better, I think

than not drinking at all

and I think of you

how you were right,

I'm just a Freudian cliché

with no alibi

for my behavioural trends.

But long ago I stopped

questioning myself

over such petty crimes

as I've no excuse, anyways

so know my buckled tongue

never meant to twist your insides.

Before you offered me a wing

to hide beneath

I survived on bread and booze,

so as I get drunk

on this lonely hill in a hazy field

I remember how

it could've been

all those years when,

we strived to survive with dignity intact,

wasted youth spent experimenting,

and those goodbyes elicited

with low singing and beer swigging.

Suppose some lessons are learnt

the slow way.

Suppose someday I’ll drink wine

but for now the beer is working fine

as I pretend my soul is not up for rent

and the past is just an illusion.