losing you and it's effortless
redefining short and sweet,
a whiskey neat,
eight years, much shorter than the forever,
everyone's grand assumption feast,
wrongly assumed, love consumed,
making ***** of her and me
for believing,
and looking now,
as if it's almost
our own closing time,
the hour of our
just desserts
you lose yourself, asking yourself,
can a three legged stools
with two busted legs be
just merely rocky,
without another hand on the tiller~shoulder,
something
with haunting visions
of falling, failing, flailing,
down the stairs
victim of a stoning, or just ******
gravity, the Blackhawk down,
the string puller, the no-reason reason
the slow descent,
so effortless, glassine smooth at first,
barely noticed, shrugged away like a small bruise,
then you cannot help to stop and forgive the incessant
wondering of how we got,
the confusion contusions,
now body bejeweled resplendent,
everywhere, in everything
you were once
a rock, a star,
with all the answers to the questions
she was about to ask,
your arm punched,
attached to an affectionate smiling,
for the perfection of our mutuality of
knowing
was her rock,
and now, quietly,
this last piece of jewelry consists of
a necklace of stones,
a choker of
glass pebbles in both our mouths
wry cry
realizing that the
darkness cracks of
busted and rusted,
are voluminous surround sound silences
breaking up,
either side of
us
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
losing you and it's effortless
redefining short and sweet,
a whiskey neat,
eight years, much shorter than the forever,
everyone's grand assumption feast,
wrongly assumed, love consumed,
making ***** of her and me
for believing,
and looking now,
as if it's almost
our own closing time,
the hour of our
just desserts
you lose yourself, asking yourself,
can a three legged stools
with two busted legs be
just merely rocky,
without another hand on the tiller~shoulder,
something
with haunting visions
of falling, failing, flailing,
down the stairs
victim of a stoning, or just ******
gravity, the Blackhawk down,
the string puller, the no-reason reason
the slow descent,
so effortless, glassine smooth at first,
barely noticed, shrugged away like a small bruise,
then you cannot help to stop and forgive the incessant
wondering of how we got,
the confusion contusions,
now body bejeweled resplendent,
everywhere, in everything
you were once
a rock, a star,
with all the answers to the questions
she was about to ask,
your arm punched,
attached to an affectionate smiling,
for the perfection of our mutuality of
knowing
was her rock,
and now, quietly,
this last piece of jewelry consists of
a necklace of stones,
a choker of
glass pebbles in both our mouths
wry cry
realizing that the
darkness cracks of
busted and rusted,
are voluminous surround sound silences
breaking up,
either side of
us
