All ~ National Poetry Month, Day 9

Let me tell you something, baby…
We are goners –
Every last one of us.
Pull that rickety chair up real close
Let me smell the whiskey on your breath
Let me look
For just a moment
Beyond your webbing
Your constructs
Your highgrounds.
We haven’t got long –
Of that I’m certain
It’s time to panic, love…
Get the candles and vodka
Let me kiss your eyes
Let me hold you
Interlacing fingers
Eyebrow to eyebrow
All this electricity wants
And snaps for a connection
Crawling the walls.
So let’s just admit…
We’re dead and gone
We’re bone dust and sentimental stories
Why hurt, ache, and suffer?
Let’s have it all
Feast from my palm
This darkness and light
Curl into this bright idea
Wrap it around your shoulders…
You can have it all.


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