For Mikee Ebbs

One night, unplanned, you moved in
knowing you love a drink, I poured a triple
annoyed at the spontaneous arrival
but happy you wanted to be with me

You cradled me in your embrace, you crooned
I will never let you die alone from your depths
I slept after we made love and you drank more
intimacy was frequent, but in blackout

Morning was strange after sex, you lack technique
after we were in surprised passion, discoveries
you grew lazy, chasing your satisfaction only
but your face, oh, I engraved it on my heart

You don’t recall most of our time together
you love blackout too much, the true you
but true you’s the death of you, you kill yourself
I don’t worry now, I conjure your face still

Published in The Lark

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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