Monday, December 17, 2012

Sweet Talking Cement


 
Sober hours

Early morning

I sob at the wall

Surrounding his heart

IT IS NO USE

I am sweet-talking cement

And getting bruised

The liquor digests

Into something like

Pure hate

Dripping from the mouth

Of the man I adore

For all of my words

And all of my love

It glazes his eyes

And he sees me no more

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