Quiet in the South (2025)

Red skies skinning past the pines,

Cicadas hum where your voice once laced

The breeze with laughter, slurred and low-

Now silence burns more than I’d let you know.

Whiskey lies in mason jars,

I see your shadow drift between passing cars.

They say a storm comes slow, then floods,

But you left quicker 

Than a blade draws blood.

I tried penning you a letter-

Are you riding back on broken tires?

Should I wait with open doors or light a fire?

My porch swing sways with yesterday’s silhouette-

I’m still here, I haven’t healed yet. 

The moon seems to hold secrets that she won’t tell,

Just like you and your drunken spells.

Smoke from my candles curl like a prayer 

Like they’re talking to a God 

Who doesn’t seem to remember or care.

But I’m not bitter, just bruised and frail

From stacking all the love I gave-

It blew up in my face 

Like adding gasoline to already burning blue flames.

You say “crazy”, I say, “no, this is just my inner hell”.

So are you coming tonight?

Or should I kiss this match goodbye?

Because darling, it’s become damn quiet in the south 

When a man has to learn to live without.

M.H. John