He lays in his bed
under a thin layer of dust
and ash from his cigarette after cigarette.
The sheets tremble above his breath.
His chest cracks and crumbles.
His heart's an inferno.
He ricochets between
anger and self-pity
and denial.
Two days ago
she left without a word;
slipped from underneath
the covers and buried herself in
bottles of *****
before crossing the street
to the vineyard.
She weaved together
the branches
and kicked the stool from underneath
her bare feet.
as he watched from the window.
He knows she will come back.
She will untie herself from those
grapes of wrath
and rest her head
against the pillow next to his own.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 3:27 PM UTC
He lays in his bed
under a thin layer of dust
and ash from his cigarette after cigarette.
The sheets tremble above his breath.
His chest cracks and crumbles.
His heart's an inferno.
He ricochets between
anger and self-pity
and denial.
Two days ago
she left without a word;
slipped from underneath
the covers and buried herself in
bottles of *****
before crossing the street
to the vineyard.
She weaved together
the branches
and kicked the stool from underneath
her bare feet.
as he watched from the window.
He knows she will come back.
She will untie herself from those
grapes of wrath
and rest her head
against the pillow next to his own.
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