by Maple Tree   Jul 30, 2019

Behind the nightmares that linger in my glass
like a loose fitting camisole
under a lonely, whispering moon;

are thoughts of a woman with strands of raven
caressing her face, feeling nothing but a breeze tease
of midnight air and the company of his eyes.

It was the absence of whiskey and stale cigarette
that kept me standing knee locked and petrified-

As usual I left him standing alone between death and sunlight.

and the nightmares of innocence play out
In a mind that can't let it go.


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