Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Day Trading Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 3/07/2007 12:21:00 AM

There were always ways. Had always been. Would always be. Entrances to the mind that required neither injection nor relent. Building her crocus one pebble at a time. The shift of light favoring a slow pace. In slips of steps like shreds of paper left behind after the ink had run dry.

Promises of mountains not withstanding. Naming the deserts after herself. In stutters. Learning to walk. In tosses. A coin to let drop. The favors of gravity not forgotten.

There we were in our ragged jackets. In our tattered denims. Ready to live a life that was already gone.

There we stood and watched the white gloves waving. The funerals of love clutching their IV's. Like some path back to before we were killing each other.

The ransom of abject lovers sour only dividend.


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