The private eyes
must have dark stares,
cannot sleep
with this
investigation,
but seriously
employed
and doing their best.
Bad apples with worms
play tragic with bruising,
skin gets yellowing
with heavy of nights
of story book alcoholism
of not fiction but truth,
Eyes wide to this predator
Solve the crime as the abuse
will keep on until early mornings.

My tent I've pitched
no one is here this night
weary are my feet
in the sky there's not a glitter of light

promises I've made - indeed
I'll fulfil ere I go to my long  deep sleep
the future shall define me
by the dreams that I faithfully keep

I recall your giggles
as you floor me onto the bed
not fragile like crystal,
but falls into sheets of spread.
You asked of my scribbling
and I told you I was a poet
Eyes lit up like an entire bay
and no rockiness of the sway
except for our movements.
We left before the last drinks....