Indie Pendants
We spoke narrative lines transposed from art house moviesDespising and loving the praise we both were aware neither of us deserved,
You dipped an agile finger in a cup of warm caffeine
Writing a poem about improvised lives on the Chinese table cloth
It was of red paper, crinkled and torn along the edges, cigarette burn
Dragons swam in the wine stains ever thirsty for the stale drink
Had numbed our sense of self enough to simply muse
In the mirror of your eyes, I saw myself revealed,
"Life kills us my friend," their eloquence spoke.
Beautifully, I agreed.
"There are moments" you said, "where one discovers themselves so very
utterly alone."
"What moment is now my friend?" asked I as our dragon's ancient appetite
grew inhaling the night's shoreline like that coastal city of legend fated to be consumed by the sea.
"Life is an untamable history of moments," your husky whisper intoned even as that agile finger traced yet another line on the red table cloth, eyes smouldering like twin agate stars dancing before an altar of divine or perhaps profane fire.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2014-01-16 at 16:45
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