S. E. Poetry

[sepoetry]

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[sepoetry]

"It makes my face blush with a rush of scarlet anger, and a distorted pink of sadness when I realize that I can only dream of resting my head in the perfectly shaped crevice between your shoulders and neck. That only when the stars are out can I talk to you; spill all my secrets, pry for yours. I see you the next day and I think about the conversations we had when my head was on my pillow and my eyes were shut. You don't remember them, but how could you? They were just figments of a dream. One of what we could be. If only it was all different.

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[sepoetry]

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[sepoetry]

"I drove past the bar down the street the other day . I gazed inside, purely out of curiosity. You weren't there. I knew you wouldn't be. But I saw all the men perched on the bar, downing whatever the waitress put in front of them until they couldn't see straight. I wondered how you act when you have liquid courage in your system. I've never been one for alcohol, but I know you are. I then imagined you stumbling in after few too many glasses of whiskey, pulling her close to you as you whisper nothingness in her ear. Your breath reeks of another wasted night. She's annoyed. You can see it, but the alcohol blurs your care. I just want you to know I would not pull away like she does. I would hold you tighter, my arms wrapped around the small of your back. When your grip slackened and you began to stumble I would help you to bed. The only thing I would feel would be regret that I didn't go out with you. If I had we would be stumbling in together using each other as a crutch, giggling at old jokes you would retell. I've never been one for alcohol, but I know you are. And damn do I wish I could experience this instead of constantly imagining."

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