Torch flame and red wine.
I'm doused in paint and sweat
Stomach curdled in hunger and irritation.
He is late.
He usually is.
The wine was for me.
Nevertheless, I let him sip from my glass.
We argue. Pardon...discuss.
I win.
I usually do.
We watch the bottle vanish.
We recline.
We muse.
I relax into my own sore muscles
including the muscle in my chest
tell a story that sharpens its ache.
He stutters.
I startle as
he kicks his chair out from under him.
Tears flicker in torchlight.
Hands clasp too fervently.
Questions.
No. Actually...
...just one.
I knew the answer, but was
left
utterly
speechless.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Torch flame and red wine.
I'm doused in paint and sweat
Stomach curdled in hunger and irritation.
He is late.
He usually is.
The wine was for me.
Nevertheless, I let him sip from my glass.
We argue. Pardon...discuss.
I win.
I usually do.
We watch the bottle vanish.
We recline.
We muse.
I relax into my own sore muscles
including the muscle in my chest
tell a story that sharpens its ache.
He stutters.
I startle as
he kicks his chair out from under him.
Tears flicker in torchlight.
Hands clasp too fervently.
Questions.
No. Actually...
...just one.
I knew the answer, but was
left
utterly
speechless.