Home Alone On a Friday Night

"Who needs Love?" you think,
Home alone on a Friday night again,

and

if you dare
ask yourself,

perhaps after the darkness of dusk,

how you will ever knit 
the jagged edges
of your wounds
back together;

how you will ever

nurse yourself toward wellness,

away from the lure of the pain
you carry in the rheum

that has become the natural gleam
in your eyes.

It is not hope that you will find
in those mirrors

but it is unquenchable sadness

that returns like a drunk to the stool
at the smokey bar
night after endless night.

Here you find yourself
alone and tired;
elated to be so addicted
to losing yourself,

falling off the wagon
of joy
again,
and again,
and over again.