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What are you waiting for?
Half a bottle of wine.
A whole ounce of pain killers.
Two swigs of bourbon.
You're still painted to the inside of my eyelids.
You and that haughty samba you call a walk.
Spike heels, lazer eyes, and smooth nails
Like a caress from a velvet courtesan
on the wirey strangeness of my cheek.
Like kiwi on silk.
I try to picture you naked
but its a bit difficult without a working color scheme
and a fifty foot canvas to roll naked on.
All the words fade from me after I've picked up my pen
all the shine drips from the walls after we've parted
and I'm left in a universe of greys.
Various shades of dull, the lights reverse.
the shadows dance and whisper mischevious doubt
and I forget to watch as you leave.
Like every day is my last chance to win you.
Each vivid, amnesic fantasy of having those lips pressed wet and warm against my body.
As the chemical euphoric disentegrates with each distancing step.
Museless, naked, and cold
in a world of blind voyeurs.
I'd reach.
If I thought you would catch me.
