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14 February 2010

choking on the final swig
of another forgotten bottle
the deep burgundy liquid disappears
and those old fears
anesthetize themselves
deep in the blood-red veins
of another wasted day
imitating wasted youth;
and the truth is
addictions are so terribly convenient.

coughing, sputtering, remembering
as the last dregs are drained
from my favorite cup
(that perfect day we spent
lying beside the sea;
sharing the wine-dark dreams
of imaginary love)
that you gave me–
both of us pretending
it was your heart.

chugging the bottle,
all pretense now set aside,
amputating these old feelings
with scalpels of bacchan bliss;
reduced, now, to this:
thoughts in desperation,
your face, your feel, your touch
all frozen and forgotten
until the morning comes
and reality intrudes
on my unconscious fantasy.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. 14 February 2010 05:19

    Sad, sorrowful, regretful …

  2. 15 February 2010 02:17

    In other words, the perfect post for V-Day?

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