Teaching an old dog....
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
This is an old one I've never been totally satisfied with, I changed it up a little, tell me what you think
Ex-Wife’s Wedding
Her happiness inflicts a sort of insanity,
but it still draws me, a runaway
coming home with empty pockets.
Her smile is a timeline of teeth,
a year for every enamel.
When we speak, each phrase is a vault,
that stores the things we cannot say,
every glance, the sum of a recurring
dream we called our marriage.
Where her hand touched my chest,
fabric rusts through my sternum
like a frost beaten muffler,
before I tear off my copper tie
and slam it into the bar.
I order three shots of Jack,
to chase the oxidized tie chips,
and I see them in crude-oil whiskey,
sinking to the bottom of my
stomach. I shake my head
to eliminate the aftertaste,
and the pictures in my mind.
Leaving room in that dark attic to wonder
if we are more human when ideas
string together in Christmas lights,
or when the blown fuse box of thought
fills that crawlspace with memories,
and a blank smile.
I stumble back to the reception,
and stare at the bride’s table, that rectangle,
filled with romantic thoughts.
She looks perfect up there,
her sun-streaked hair
coils onto her shoulders.
A white dress wraps her frame.
She could crack the equator with her heel.
I stand up with a shaking wine glass,
she glances at me with her green eyes
and tiny crystal bells chime all
around me.
My dark space fills as I stare down
at the suited multitude shouting, “Toast!”
Ex-Wife’s Wedding
Her happiness inflicts a sort of insanity,
but it still draws me, a runaway
coming home with empty pockets.
Her smile is a timeline of teeth,
a year for every enamel.
When we speak, each phrase is a vault,
that stores the things we cannot say,
every glance, the sum of a recurring
dream we called our marriage.
Where her hand touched my chest,
fabric rusts through my sternum
like a frost beaten muffler,
before I tear off my copper tie
and slam it into the bar.
I order three shots of Jack,
to chase the oxidized tie chips,
and I see them in crude-oil whiskey,
sinking to the bottom of my
stomach. I shake my head
to eliminate the aftertaste,
and the pictures in my mind.
Leaving room in that dark attic to wonder
if we are more human when ideas
string together in Christmas lights,
or when the blown fuse box of thought
fills that crawlspace with memories,
and a blank smile.
I stumble back to the reception,
and stare at the bride’s table, that rectangle,
filled with romantic thoughts.
She looks perfect up there,
her sun-streaked hair
coils onto her shoulders.
A white dress wraps her frame.
She could crack the equator with her heel.
I stand up with a shaking wine glass,
she glances at me with her green eyes
and tiny crystal bells chime all
around me.
My dark space fills as I stare down
at the suited multitude shouting, “Toast!”
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
"When we speak, each phrase is a vault,
that stores the things we cannot say,
every glance, the sum of a recurring
dream we called our marriage." -- really liked this stanza! It describes the empty chatter and false smiles that hide true emotions so well! Like the ex-huband would be saying, "I'm so happy for you!", when he really wants to cry and ask why it didn't work and tell her that he still loves her.
Ah, I'm glad you mentioned that, those were the main parts that were added to the poem, after re-reading it again, I thought the original needed a little more of a setup for the husband.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird