naked
favoured lines of poetry
snatches of memorized
jewels
eggs
nested in soft tissue
loving the way
phonemes arrange
to word
to sentence
Whiskey voiced
our tonals lull
into hot air
variations
drifting
percolating
heavy into
story
scroll right
in self-deceit
not satisfied with the
prose poem we created
there
recited to blank walls
whispered to white sheets
honeyed with the drip
of faucet and creaking
timbers
His honesty
his way with the
word world
makes me cry for
my lies
until the gin blossoms
coming to my face
make me feel
real
scroll right
incites spirits and
brings a missing
part of himself
between us
then my ghosts rise up
to mingle
erasing that
rough and easy piece
we crafted together
our shack up song
I can't compete
with women who
fall
out of the sky
so I'll love his words
instead.
