That Drunken Moment
There was a quiet moment once,when we had drunk too much
and all the others were asleep,
the music was playing
and you took your violin
and just plucked at the strings
and in that drunken moment
I loved you more than every note
we ever played again.
The world was sleeping and we
two souls alone, lying on cushions
kissing, in the only way
a flautist and violinist know how to do,
buried underneath a sheepskin coat,
over filled ashtrays and empty
cheap bottles of plonk
like the plinkity tunes in
underground nightclubs we sometimes
played, for cheap drinks and saucisson
slapped between bread with cheese
I loved you but it couldn't translate
and later when we woke and you
looked at me with such devotion
I pursed my flautist lips
and took a spray of Chanel
and until a kiss in a thunderstorm
it stayed that way and way and way
as listless nights lead and lend
I meet you by the ferry
and you ask what if it had been different
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2016-02-21 at 19:43
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