PoemConfession
Author / PoetCharles Bukowski
TagsBed, Death, Love, Sleep

waiting for death
like a cat
that will jump on the
bed

I am so very sorry for
my wife

she will see this
stiff
white
body
shake it once, then
maybe
again

“Hank!”

Hank won’t
answer.

it’s not my death that
worries me, it’s my wife
left with this
pile of
nothing.

I want to
let her know
though
that all the nights
sleeping
beside her

even the useless
arguments
were things
ever splendid

and the hard
words
I ever feared to
say
can now be
said:

I love
you.

Charles Bukowski
Charles Bukowski
16 Aug 1920 - 9 Mar 1994
Region: Central America
Movement: Dirty Realism, Transgressive Fiction
Awards: National Endowment For The Arts

more poems by Charles Bukowski

Poem NameTopic
The History Of One Tough MotherfuckerFinally, Motherfucker, Night
The ShowerBall, Leg, Peaceful
So You Want To Be A WriterWriter
Yes YesCreate, God, Universe
Poetry ReadingsAmerica, Genius, Poetry
Like A Flower In The RainApple, Breast, Cigarette
The Most Beautiful Woman In TownBeautiful, Girl, Sister
Prayer In Bad WeatherBedrooms, Rain, Umbrella
To The Whore Who Took My PoemsCarbons, Poems, Poetry
SplashBrian, Poem, Room

all poems by Charles Bukowski

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