Grey Suit Black Tie

This is the Night That Took Our Grandmothers Years Before Their Men

Give up nights with the boys, whiskey-hi balls and smokey poker rooms. Sell off your complaints about home (this home) for more than a song.  There can only be so many hard days and man can’t be filled with burgers at the bar, and corner slices in bright city lights; stars can’t be that calling. We lost more than Tommy that first year. Country busts grow back but only in hours before the sun. It never waits for your key, your steps, your cough. It won’t wait for your leak with eyes closed lightly under sheets (as if you’d notice faking.) You spoke of self in so many ways, now you keep it. 5 AM light doesn’t wait any longer and I’m gutted. Pockets emptier that your own because I put my money on the word you’d come back home. Only so much sleep can be taken in anticipation.