/ forgetful
regretful
a mindful path of
multi-storied
v e r s e s /
searching
for liminal
s p a c e s
observing
those pondering
f a c e s
*
. . . o p p o n e n t s
aware
contenders—
beware
of those doubtful
intentions
unspoken
d i s s e n t i o n s . . .
sketched
on damp paper—
and never
aired
*
/ forgetful
regretful
a mindful path of
multi-storied
v e r s e s /
searching
for liminal
s p a c e s
fierce like
assonant
traces
you can
now
view—
though
I n e v e r
b a r e d
rarity
gravity
willowy
s i g t h s
sensing
the
fears
that pierce
through your
body
mind
soul
and
thy
h
e
a
r
t
*
rarity
gravity
magical
n i g t h s
drying
these tears
all sensing
the fears
that pierce
through the
body
mind
soul
and
my
h
e
a
r
t
*
rarity
gravity
subdued
star
l i g h t
tearful,
silent,
day-dreaming
we stumble on
willowy
s i g h t s
*
drunk with
wild wonders
day-dreaming
we tumble,
we write,
dream, still,
humble,
f l o a t ,
w e i g h t l e s s ,
t o n i g h t
shake things up
shake things down
shape things wild
a n d
b o x
t h e m
i n
right
or
wrong
it’s all
t h e y ’ v e
b e e n
*
they’ve seen
g r e y
they’ve seen
b l a c k ,
demure shades—
a field of
d r e a m s
right
or
wrong
it’s all
t h e y ’ v e
s e e n
*
now,
and then,
been...
...and seen,
tonight,
grey worlds,
be
come
s w e e t
d r e a m s
D
r D
u r
m u
m ,
little women's army
splatter walls—
dressed in
war face
p a i n t
magic hands
can turn out
wonders,
now they're sleeping—
shan't be
awoken
y e t
close
the shutters,
no light
streaming—
they deserve
a darkened
dreaming
b e dD
r D
u r
m u
m ,
little women's army—
splatter walls
dressed in
war face
p a i n t
dissuading fears
like there’s
no
t
o
m
o
r
r
o
w
assuaging
nuages—
those dreams
u
n
f
o
l
d
contorting
smiles
unseen to
td h
a g
y i
l
there’s no
room
left for
dreams
of
O LG D
Smoking
French
poetry whore
cigarettes
o n e,
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
i wet my lips,
i puff—
frail
particles of
d i f f u s e d
s m o k e
S
d u
n m e r
u r
o
i bat my eyelids,
i stare away.
and puff—
o n e
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
still no
words, yet
i perceive
some
d a r k
v e r s e
s m o k e
has subtly
embraced
— p o s s e s s e d —
my f e a t h e r e d
d r e a m s
and,
while
i type
a widowed
v e r s e —
for a poem
i may
have dreamed—
but will
never, in ink,
b i r t h
smoking
French
poetry whore
cigarettes
o n e,
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
a drunken
song
waltzes
around
i n
m y
h e a d
“they’re not good for you.
he’s not good for you.
stop wasting
y o u r
b r e a t h
a w a y
remember—
smoking
ain’t good
for
the
l i v i n g .”
i n h a l e.
e x h a l e.
s m o k i n g
o n e ,
a f t e r
t h e
o t h e r
a
subtly
s o o t h i n g
d a r k ,s m o k e d
v e r s e
e
s m
e m e b
c r
a
wording wondrous wreckage
imagining feasts of rhyme
and lusting after
verse-full fancy
ty p i ng
t
h
e
e
n
n
u
i
a w a y
through burgundy
written
stanzas
as
the
drama
Queen
she
wasn’t
meant
to
be
.
.
.
y e t — s h e ' d b e c o m e
.
.
.
and
then
she closed
her eyes
p
r
e
t
e
n
d
i
n
g
n o t h i n g
h a d
e v e r
h a p p e n e d
You hit me /
Immense high /
Dried ginger clouds
Mischievously
Embrace me /
While I float away
I n g o d l y
S o u n d s c a p e /
I start
Sliding down
To viscous darkness /
Engulfing me /
U n a w a r e /
Faintly blurring away
Y o u r t r u e
E x i s t e n c e /
Hopelessly
I hit
The ground /
And dive into
The murkiest
Depths
I ’ v e e v e r
I n h a b i t e d /
Junkie dwarfs
Deftly conceal
Your
Exit
plan /
To my blankly
S i l e n t
E y e s /
I’m certain
You will
Never
Say
Sorry /
For those games
Y o u
P l a y e d /
You were Pure
Heroine /
And into
That gutter /
I do not want /
Again /
T o fall /
W i l l i n g l y /
One last
Poetic killer
Card
You hide /
As again /
Y o u h i t m e
V e r s e - l e s s l y /
You
A r e n o w
G o n e / I /
A m n o w
G o n e /
B o t h b u t f a i n t
S m o k e /
Of w h a t
W e
O n c e
W e r e/
W h a t
C o u l d /
H a v e /
B e e n /
/ I
Am
Ever
So /
Sorry /
F o r
O u r
L o s s / / /
P.S.
I resurrected /
That is
The epilogue
Your literary eyes
Will
Never
G e t t o
R e a d /
So /
As
I start
Combatively
Writing
M y
O w n
H i s t o r y /
I stop
Mourning
Us /
And
Become /
T h e h e r o i n e
i n m y o w n
S t o r y /
I n s t e a d
the chapters
we stopped writing,
subtly smeared
like a
B r e e z e
the words we
never uttered,
all forgotten
like a
B r e e z e
crushed ice,
some bitter grapefruit,
drowned with vodka
like a
B r e e z e
enjoy the
subtle solace
of those berries
like a
B r e e z e
breathe on
an empty stomach
of love poems
like a
B r e e z e
love with
a puzzled mind,
ruby caresses
like a
B r e e z e
a new
unwritten chapter
unpublished opus—
w r i t t e n
B r e e z e
gone ---
with
the
s e a
B r e e z e
.
.
.
fun
thing is,
it wasn't
e v e n
a c o c k t a i l
N I G H T
LannaZee 