Nights Comfort Lost

They live on the corner,

Both lost, but together known,

Between the council house and the carpet shop

They make-shift a kerbside home.


She, drug-thin, snow-flake skin

Barely hiding the little left within

Yesterday’s jeans slip slight from her hips

Yet undeterred and unrefined, she effs and blinds.


He, blind-drunk, weaves and creaks 

Gaze to the floor, head too laden to lift

Yellowed hands hang from coat worn by time

Wringing the neck of his cheap white wine.


Unbalanced, she trips in her dislocated mind

Lead-footed, he fumbles on his curved straight line

Til jolted, his bottle crashed and caved in

Against the vindictive ticket-machine.


Liquid gold pours down and out

Through the cracks in their cold paved floor

Their nights comfort lost to the ground

Followed by his fury, and her furore.

“brief; we were challenged on DVerse by our host Anmol this week to create a portrait in verse.

“Insight; a portrait of a local couple I sometimes see whilst waiting for the afternoon bus

12 thoughts on “Nights Comfort Lost

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