The Bottle

Every ring of the phone is a knife
Cutting deep, forging scars upon scars
Just when the blood had finally stopped
Now, you bring it back.

Pride is foolish, there's no virtue
To the patience that I've lost
And the honor that I've stolen
Has come at such a cost.
So I shy away at safe passage
Negotiations ill advised
Blindly running, going nowhere
And I hold the thoughts inside.

Trying hard to ignore the pain gnawing
Grinding teeth, steeling nerve against nerve
But the harder I work to forget the past
You have to bring it back.

Pride is foolish, there's no virtue
To the patience that I've lost
And the honor that I've stolen
Has come at such a cost.
So I shy away at safe passage
Negotiations ill advised
Blindly running, going nowhere
And I hold the thoughts inside.

C'mon, Darlin', let's go home.

It had been the worst day of his life
Beaten, without sleep, alone
His head on the table, tears would not come
Hallucinating the touch of a lost lover
As she brushed aside his hair
Gracing his neck with a forgotten kiss
As her hands teased the worry from his shoulders
He knew this was not a dream
"C'mon, Darlin', let's go home."
The anger, frustration, shame and fear
Finally flowed from his bloodshot eyes
Fists pounded, he could not shout
Save to list his failings in delirium
She grabbed the fists and held them
"Don't. Don't do this to yourself."
Gently she uncurled each clenched hand
Softly kissing first one palm, then the next
And held them to her breast.
Her gaze was absolution, her touch, redemption
"C'mon, Darlin', let's go home."
It became the best day of his life.