12-21-2018, 07:50 AM
Winter Long
Love lit a candle
and all the rest of the world went dark.
Shadows laid on the wall all in one way
and the bed seemed like the only place to be.
Together or alone, bed is best,
to recover or rest or send electricity back and forth
between endless gaps;
sad to see the candle burn away
and all the wax soon gone
leaving an empty glass
that makes me think of drinking.
But everything makes me think of drinking.
A warmth that wells up in my chest
replacing the coldness of anxiety,
the hot freezing of a woman's touch,
everything melting and freezing at once,
bleeding in love, frozen in love,
lit, plastered, stoned,
burned out on love and frostbitten without it.
Nothing, nothing can be done about or without it.
Love lit a candle
and all the rest of the world went dark.
Shadows laid on the wall all in one way
and the bed seemed like the only place to be.
Together or alone, bed is best,
to recover or rest or send electricity back and forth
between endless gaps;
sad to see the candle burn away
and all the wax soon gone
leaving an empty glass
that makes me think of drinking.
But everything makes me think of drinking.
A warmth that wells up in my chest
replacing the coldness of anxiety,
the hot freezing of a woman's touch,
everything melting and freezing at once,
bleeding in love, frozen in love,
lit, plastered, stoned,
burned out on love and frostbitten without it.
Nothing, nothing can be done about or without it.