Sand Dollar

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I remember our trips to the ocean.

She photographed the old lighthouses and anything that caught her eye.

We watched the sunset and drank beers living life as now I simply exist.

I remember the peace within those moments.

It’s a twisted bliss I embrace now as I decay slowly.

I still have those photographs although no longer do I have her.

As she moved on and I remain frozen to bleed stories and fill pages.

Handing out cheap laughs and sad lines.

Much like a bartender passing out overpriced cocktails and stale beers.

It’s easy to read my truths but not so easy to pen them anymore.

She always loved the ocean and old lighthouses.

She just never loved me.

More from this Author

  • John Patrick Robbins is the editor of the Rye Whiskey Review and Under The Bleachers. He is also the author of Once Upon A Nervous Breakdown from Soma Publishing and Sex Drugs & Poetry from Whiskey City Press. His work has been published in the San Pedro River Review, Ariel Chart, The Mojave River Review, Red Fez and elsewhere.

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