drunk talk

Poem 1.2

Image from Depositphotos, edited in Canva

there’s a certain kind of fascination
that comes with being wrong —
the kind of light you just can’t shake,
a gray that won’t fade no matter what you do

and we’re listless in motion,
poetry stunted,
and i wanted nothing more

than to sink into your glow

but there’s nothing like an ever after
captured on film, stilted in evergreen,
framed in a moment caught in time

but i was nothing without you

call it drunk talk if you like —
that the wine’s got me bleeding lines,
but you’re an anomaly in subsequent letters

all to make me fashioned like a doll,
criss-crossed with stitches,
a ragged dress on her frame

and i task myself with too many arrows
as if i’m caught up in being cupid’s apprentice —
but love wasn’t fair to anyone in war, was it?

take me out of pandora’s box,
and know me like the evil i am
because hope died here long ago