I’ve been watching you since that first hit
four and a half cigarettes ago. I haven’t taken my eyes off you since you moved
down two seats closer to me and ordered another drink.
Three drinks later my eyes still hadn’t moved away from that deep red-colored flannel.
I couldn’t taste what I was drinking any more. I would regret it in the morning
but I didn’t care. I would keep drinking as long as you were
there. You finished your eighth cigarette and slipped
out of that flannel to reveal a white V-neck that stretched over your strong arms
you’d probably deny you worked hard for. Another drink

was placed in front of me. Looking at the bartender
he pointed to you.
For the pretty lady that cost me more than half a pack of cigarettes and six drinks.
Raising his drink, we clanked glasses and I took another sip of what I swore tasted just like I imagined
Your lips would taste. I woke up
the next morning with a folded piece of paper
lying in the empty, wrinkled sheets beside me.
See you next Friday. It was then I realized
he'd forever be my favorite hangover.

Your fatal illusion fills me with such confusion
Is it more we share or just a passing distraction?
Do you really care or an automated reaction?
Could this be a one-sided affair and this is infatuation?

When this is all over will you still think of me as I of you?
Will you still share a drink with me or is it really through?
Maybe I missed my chance or never really had one
maybe I risked my heart for just a bit of fun.

I may not always be an open book
but please take the time to have a second look
for the last few pages were written about you
and all my words are true.

Today bears the weight of erstwhile trepidation.
Uncertainties exhumed only to be hung up as ominous flags.
Black as night my widowed heart paraded through the procession.
Garbed in ash encrusted, sequinned frock, hemmed train all tattered in rags.

Herald the face with no features yet obscured behind a chiffon veil.
In hands, a bouquet of black roses, worm-eaten to the stems.
The mourning sun only gave the weakest glow,
feeble attempt to rejuvenate all that is stale;
to imbue the shimmer back into forsaken jewels and dulled gems.

Her entourage kept up with heavy feet; all grim and sullen.
Also faceless... Armed with pitchforks and torches.
Today they will draw much; having thirst for crimson.
Today they witness her death as the black parade marches.

It took only a few seconds to
f
a
l
l
in love with you.
____________
It took only a few seconds for us to be,

meyou

, side by side.  
____________
It took only a few seconds for you to
d
r
o
p
me from your life.
_____________
Why can't it take only a few seconds to pick
myself
mysel
myse
mys
my
m
up again?