THE BARMAIDS MUSE

I watch them
As they order
Their next drink...
How the melancholy
Courses over the ice,
As they stir their mixture
Of loneliness and gull.

I watch them
As they drag on
Their next cigarette...
How the matchstick lights
The tip of misery,
As their suicidal poison
Hovers around them
In rings of ashen smoke.

I watch them
As they hesitantly
Get up to leave,
Dressing up once again
Beneath counterfeit smiles,
Caught in their constant state
Of despondency.
Hiding out,
Stalling, not wanting,
Not willing,
To make their way back
Through the crowds,
Through their lives,
Through their loves.
With souls closed tight
And eyes open wide,
They stumble out
Into the parking lot
Seeing and feeling
Absolutely
Nothing.

by Amye Nicole Bird