Smelling like weed and guitar strings
And fogged up car windows in January.
Hot summer sidewalks. Blown out matches.
Skinned knees. Ice cream cones. Sticky rock candy
Now transformed to whiskey and cocaine.
The cobwebs now pull his mouth down,
Sand has settled in his cheekbones, speckled
His face with pretty lies and bad boy charm.
Everything burns him like guitar strings
Snapping against calloused fingers, iron
lowered into the flames of premature age.
Cigarette smoke and ashes curl and veer
Through his dripping hair and down my back,
Sparking on my spine, ripping me up.
He ripped me open on a night of velvet and
Fractured glass. He rips himself open every night
With needles and bass lines.
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ReplyDeletethis whole piece paints such a vivid story, but that first stanza.... man, that is pure brilliance.
ReplyDeletei'm so glad to read something of you again. this is beautiful and sad and i wish stories like these would only exist in poetry.
ReplyDeletealways brilliant my beautiful friend
ReplyDelete