Friday, April 11, 2014

The Breath and the Bridle



I only ever fell apart 
in the heat 
of her cognac eyes. 
A ministry of Hennessy 
And physically 
wrenching wings. 

She only ever fell for me
in the heat 
of my whiskey lies. 
The misery of Jimmy Beam
And Howlin Wolf 
symphonies. 

We only ever felt together
in the heat 
of our selfish cries. 
A wishful dream that sits between
our favorite 
unromantic scenes. 

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