Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Turmoil on Small Doses Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Sunday 9/10/2006 12:00:00 AM

They said why would you do that to yourself. My answer. Because there was nothing else to do.

And it felt good at the time. So good. So good I still want it back sometimes. It didn't hurt at all.

My Rapunzel in her tower shaved bald. The only thing left to let down was my guard.

My Snow White's poison apple bitten. Her Prince Charming otherwise engaged. The only option was to work with the spell. Use the poison my life had asumed.

Tackle the wings one feather at a time until only the skeleton was left. Rearrange the bones. The joints. Until falling felt like flying.

The best part was I didn't have to choose between him and something else.

We could always leave and go back to being ourselves. No traces of what had transpired in the lives we we'd built.

All those shaky frames trembling in earnest as we weighed height against strength.

I was more than strong enough until. I had to decide how much I could take with me after he was gone.

0 comments:



Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.