Direction in the pit of my mouth, loss or Ta
your flight.
Your fingernails screeching on the table
drowned by a cloud of alcohol. A bottle thrown
that puke
Her Tequila.
The steel window, half open;
Through
white sails billowing in the breeze
Who enters the room, the day
cold morning.
A feigned innocence, a helping hand.
Your body lounging in your dress too loose.
And your eyes in their fatigue
Advanced Seeking to capture my spirit fails.
0 comments:
Post a Comment