The Writers Voice
The World's
Favourite Literary Website
Bedsit
by
Rusty Broadspear
I came to,
one morning
In mourning..............
Opened one eye,
A sparrow hit the window
THUD!
Lay dormant on the sill.
Freeing myself from the duvet
I lifted the window
His heart beat franticly
I carried him in
Laid him in a warm spot on the bed
Covered him.
Sparrow's nest...........
Hell........ I'll sleep on the couch
If need be.
If you're reading this
Then you'll know I'm nineteen
Bony
High IQ
Moderately wealthy background
In debt
Alcoholic and a druggie...........
But the sparrow mends
And I don't make amends.
Sophie died in the night
Still slumped
By the sink
There's a stink
Unrecognisable and not nice.........
I swill my face
Accidentally nudge her
And a syringe falls from her bruised arm.
But then..........she's blue all over
And pretty as always.
We didn't meet as junkies
We were kidlets, five or six,
Same school.
At twelve or thirteen had crushes
Often crushed
Then revived.
Shared destiny I suppose.
We hit the dirt about the same time
In different places
And met by chance
When we were both short.
I had a bedsit
She had a box
She moved in
It was said and done and done and not said.
Sharing the same backdrop
It was like love
We had fell together.
I glanced down
Her left hand outstretched, palm up.
The hand that I'd held
As she'd sunk slowly to the floor
The hand that held the needle
The hand that pleads.............
Back to the bed
I peeled back the duvet
And the sparrow was dead.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work
