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uh huh
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Bad poetry gone with the dew-drops
As beautiful as the violets were
blossoms hanging leaves
like upturned palms
sweating off the morning water drops from
whatever happened last night
all I
white and freckled
lonely but who isn’t and
hung over could remember was
the steady hum of your undelivered bouquet still
trying to celebrate the unopened box of the walk-in closet that
i can barely afford.
where did you go
after the pills were gone
even the light flickering out from your eyes
could never catch
what we’ve already swallowed. all the good times
tucked between the sunset and the morning violets
there is no reason for us
to be sweating in the morning
wherever you have gone i know
i too shall go.
i don’t want to go
i don’t want to go
all dried up and
unknowing.
