Tuesday 1/16/2007 12:44:00 AM

There was an auction of sorts. Well, there was bidding anyway. On things we had never previously wanted. In the lie of sleep we touched. Index finger pointing out the labels on our happiness.

In the smokey clouds that blossomed overhead. Between the crowded booths our voices changed. Petty reasons became excuses.

And it was almost easy to leave. Culling victory from the failures as is needed to survive them.

Beginning the lesson all over again. That I'm the same person I was before.

No less lost since having been found by those men.

2 comments:
De.vile said...

And dont change, cant afford to lose you :)

alcoholic poet said...

i probably will, but not too much.

and you'll change too. sometimes you might even like it.



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