Eclipse.
I look up at the
Full moon
And everything else
Fades away.
Like an
Eclipse,
I am covered
In black.
Crimson stories
Surrounding me,
Pretending
To be
The sun.
I forget about you,
And the pain:
Drinking in the
Clear air,
As if
My lungs
Weren’t already filled
With old smoke,
And as if
I hadn’t already
Drunk
A bottle of
Champagne
In your name.
And yet the stars
Still point
To the Southern Cross,
And I see Venus burning:
Red hot.
And it is all
Real,
And
Visceral.
And I still can’t get
The taste of you
Out
Of my mouth.
- LB









