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Jun 2015
"A vice grinds hard in the gut..."
Began a poem from decades past.
From one hard lover, now a ghost,
Whose words have long since passed.

She scoffed at love and poured another,
Drunk, to dull the pain,
Sober, I held her in my arms,
On guard against the flames.

But love grew, still, within the dark,
Inside her body, bourbon-tied.
Unseen to me, there was a spark,
And the gates below blew open wide.

Discarding friends and lovers, too,
She ****** them for their care.
Believing this was what to do,
Her love became a dare.

She sang her wrath in poetry,
Self-loathing, hatred, blame.
The gilded coach that had to be,
A vehicle of pain.

I made farewells once she was gone,
They formed inside of sighs.
I gathered up the rhyming note,
And kissed her peaceful eyes.
further inspired fictionalization of events long past, best forgotten.
I've wanted to edit this, but got slowed down recently...
It could live on it's own, as-is, but there's a lot I'd prefer to fix about it.
Alternate version with shifted focus:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1099328/circumstances-as-they-are/
wes parham
Written by
wes parham  Atlanta, GA
(Atlanta, GA)   
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