LIVED WELL

by on August 24, 2013 :: 0 comments

He watched them dance in a haze
last of his wine in his hand
frayed life remnants in his pen
they danced for him
those who bled him
those he drained

fingers quivered on tattooed names
’till he found their arched backs
felt their teeth on his lower lip
tasted his name on their tongues
they danced for him at 4 am

his eyes narrowed for their faces
but all he saw was a poem in each curve
confabulate a shriveled night
uttering sans pudeur
dance my loves dance
rip this estranged night

Leave a Reply