Poetry from Jacob Holtgraewe

Who Am I?

I am not what I am today,

nor what I was yesterday,

for simply I am what I am not.

Thus I am not what you see,

instead, what I aspire to be.

I am never truly one.

I am ever changing.

What you see today,

is not what you will see tomorrow.

And who I was when I wrote this line,

is not the same me that wrote this one.

I am not who I am now,

rather, who I will one day become.

Lost Love

In the bar after hours,

a man sits alone.

Beard old,

scotch even older.

Weary eyes tell a story,

one that of which travels down roads of sorrow.

With each drink, a memory appears,

can’t shake her.

The laughter, the love, it all lives,

but he cannot find it.

Weathered jean jacket bears the brunt of his lost love,

spends its nights draped on the lonely bar stool.

Drink brings life to his chilled body,

warmth that she used to fulfil.

Scotch long gone,

stare cannot be broken into the bottom of the glass.

With drink, and in heart,

nothingness remains.

He orders yet another.