The Hangover

The dawn streams through the curtain light,
presenting itself like the emergence of my own
thoughts.
You are on my mind.
The remnants of the day that I refer to as the night past
lie heavy under my lids, a heavenly plight.
It’s the secrets we don’t keep, that keep us
Awake at night.
It’s the words that we dare not speak
That wreak havoc on our, vital parts.

The untimely touch of red wined lips
Lingers in the daylight gloom
Ordinary surfaces mirror images that foretell of the sweet doom
that lies in wait,
past this valley of day dreams.

It never was,
It shouldn’t have been,
The meeting of two intoxicated minds
shielded by artificial blinds
that brought hands together
only to have them part.

"Hold me still,
before it sinks in
this cancer thats growing in my chest
and creeping under my skin"
was my plea, upon awakening.

What an imposition
Red wined lips bring
Picking at poisonous memories of
Alcoholic deeds in the dead of noon,
Me, howling at the sun as if it were the moon,
Forgetting that the sky is blue
And that my feet were bare
as if under a spell, bound in swoon.

Red wined lips
I still feel them at my fingertips
Soft skin,
where my hands had been...
Sweet morning air
scented by the glorious affair
Not long now before the despair,
It knocks on the door like reason
and smells of sordid sense
mocking the futility of all my thoughts
that are imagined and soon to be forgot.
Darkness descends at a later hour
illuminating a state so dire
oh but how this heart, it never tires
as it is once again cast upon the pyre
seeking a sweet embrace
and deliverance
where none should be sought for it can never be acquired.