(A lesson in Failing/Superlatives)
moreandmore
Posts: 164
Apparently, the World Does Not Revolve Around Her
(A lesson in Failing/Superlatives)
We were walking after midnight
one affront the other, as it always was.
The sky completely black beyond
the bright lights bolstered by the
sleepy city’s concrete sidewalks.
The snow fell as heavy as dust might fall in a cold,
sunlit library with the windows open, in December,
at night. We were drunk again on April Wine.
(It’s tastes like sour apple schnapps, in fact
that’s all it ever was. But isn’t it romantic?)
We drank when we were always drinking.
We were drinking all the time.
She held her drinking boyfriend on her arm
atop the boda bag she kept for tears she cried
by day and night beneath the snowy cold
or wet with sour apple schnapps, the sky completely
black beyond the bright lights bolstered by the
sleepy city’s concrete sidewalks.
We fell under another bar. A dirty band played to
dirty women and she fell into his two-lipped soul.
I found a Brit to tell me I was not a bitch and took me
home to roll a joint. Breath taken and spent, I left him
flat-wanting out to walk the city streets at night, Alone.
She cannot know and does not want, how real that
moment was. Walking down the street, feet crunching
on the fine snow. Looking up at smoke-girls, curling
in the light. I have watched her slough off beauty like she
sloughs off tears, padding her boda so she’ll have something
soft to sit on when her but gets cold.
(the sky completely black
beyond the bright lights bolstered by the
sleepy concrete city’s sidewalks.)
(A lesson in Failing/Superlatives)
We were walking after midnight
one affront the other, as it always was.
The sky completely black beyond
the bright lights bolstered by the
sleepy city’s concrete sidewalks.
The snow fell as heavy as dust might fall in a cold,
sunlit library with the windows open, in December,
at night. We were drunk again on April Wine.
(It’s tastes like sour apple schnapps, in fact
that’s all it ever was. But isn’t it romantic?)
We drank when we were always drinking.
We were drinking all the time.
She held her drinking boyfriend on her arm
atop the boda bag she kept for tears she cried
by day and night beneath the snowy cold
or wet with sour apple schnapps, the sky completely
black beyond the bright lights bolstered by the
sleepy city’s concrete sidewalks.
We fell under another bar. A dirty band played to
dirty women and she fell into his two-lipped soul.
I found a Brit to tell me I was not a bitch and took me
home to roll a joint. Breath taken and spent, I left him
flat-wanting out to walk the city streets at night, Alone.
She cannot know and does not want, how real that
moment was. Walking down the street, feet crunching
on the fine snow. Looking up at smoke-girls, curling
in the light. I have watched her slough off beauty like she
sloughs off tears, padding her boda so she’ll have something
soft to sit on when her but gets cold.
(the sky completely black
beyond the bright lights bolstered by the
sleepy concrete city’s sidewalks.)
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
no one likes it?
no 1?
:(:(:(:(
i didn't know, but find myself not surprised
that this girl and i have hit a brick wall.
the brick wall was always there
we just kept getting closer, despite it.
now, wham!
ouch
thanks justam
night