Tuesday 1/23/2007 12:23:00 AM

We wore sober in different colors. Different fabrics. The same for stoned. His little mountain making my own feel so big. I was small next to him. It's the only time I remember feeling little. That he could scoop me up at any time. Proving I wasn't as heavy as I tried to seem.

We gloated in the hours before sex and after. Pilgrims demolishing their Mayflowers. Now that the rock had been reached. Prince charmings in grey armor dismounting their horses to remove the veil from sleeping beauties. Poisoned dreams to cure us of our hearts. Make room for the life that comes after all is lost.

Witches at their cauldrons. Incanting. Spells long since defeated.

I couldn't say what it meant then. Remembering her makes me blind. But I know what it means now.

The devils in their tuxedoes asking us to dance. Starched black ties. Promising I would remember. Their claws.

I want. I need to remember how much it hurts.

2 comments:
poet said...

i have been lurking for a week or 2 and really like your work. enjoy your tuesday. poet

Prick said...

If I could touch the tear, that puts bite in your beer..

Alas..

I am here. Here. Just.



| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.