the pessimist' shield

[mevsmevsme]

i come in

to her sleeping most every night

snoring lightly as she does

her face is pink and soft

and her lips are puckered

in a playful pout

they beg for me to kiss them

to thrust my alcoholic breath

and masculine scruff against them

i don't though

because she would wake

and ask how the bar was

and i don't have the heart tonight

to tell her that

the bar was an ugly life

with money for blood

vampire for company

and scared children for partners

i don't have the heart to tell her

that i was a scared child

frozen in dusty lighting

with a half empty glass

for a shield.