Like Now Poem by matt fromm

I still recal the sound of the 2 A.M. trains
from your open bedroom window.
Nestled between a hidden life and your bedspread
choking on your flame colored hair.
Baby I need to know if it's time to hang up my leather jacket on the rusty nail I just drove through my wrist.
Sitting on a wobbly bar stool,
I regret not smashing the bottle of jack and carving your initials into my chest.
Those initials you introduced your self to me as.
I'd give anything to go back to days where you only crossed my mind when my neck would hurt.
Like now.