Saturday 9/30/2006 12:06:00 AM

He was just a stranger who quickly took me someplace I'd not been. The hairs on his arms hummed against their contrast to his skin. In his big boots that made the stairs moan and the floor strut. Bent over the further of the shadows from where I laid on the bed scratching my loneliness into the paper. Pretending I was closer.

To where he sat flirting with someone else.

In the attic. Corners wearing their capes. Darkness whispering in stalled thuds. All the fabric became coarse. As I tried not to want. Looking up from beneath him. For the moon to outrun the clouds that chase it. Hanging foot searching for its ladder. Words I wanted to hear, but couldn't say.

I didn't even know his name. Nothing. No one to cry for. As the stairs effortlessly pushed him away.

This empty pen still scars page with my thoughts. The burden is on the reader to find what I've said.

I don't mind being invisible. I kinda like it. Until I fall into someone I wish had seen.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.