Thursday 5/25/2006 11:52:00 PM

Did he love me? Of course he did. Like frost on leaves until the sun decides. Did I care. Of course I did. This impotent suicide easily contrasted the life I almost lived.

In his arms.

That's what I hated. The dependecy. The soil required to grow the plant. The rabbit that limps to grant us our luck.

A mutual prison the closest we ever were to being together.

And now you've escaped.

I wish you luck. With the world outside. With all the demons not so obvious as pain.

As much as it hurts at least I know what it looks like. What it does.

There are only so many blankets you can shiver under before you realize the cold comes from within.

I'd ask you to take me home, but I don't know where that is.

Wearing our sunken castles we tend to believe the moats.

Travis Jay Morgan said...

ah, the results of attachment. Nicely expressed.

Spyder said...

this one I feel. but is it attachment...?

alcoholic poet said...

thank you travis.

in a way spyder, yes. attachment. reflecting on old ones. how far they can stretch before they snap us back.

or break. whichever comes first.

ozymandiaz said...

"all the demons not so obvious as pain"...
I love it.
Home would seem to be such an easy thing. How could something so important get lost? How is it not recognized or defined? Is home where the heart is or is it a connection? A place to feel safe? Is that just an illusion?

alcoholic poet said...

thanx ozy.

interesting questions. if i knew the answer to even one of them there'd be little need to write.

best not to know sometimes.

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