Buzzed poem before the words become too drunk to fuck.
Strawberry wine, Kiva
rain in the desert
Virginia creepers
drinking down
death of all forgetful things
we were supposed to
rise to greatness
not for them but
for us
we
were supposed to
taste this rain in Spain
but
you're in the ground
the moonlit Balearic Sea
reaches for us
while above your grave
I sit and wait
on the smell
of something familiar
the heart of us bleeds
for half
half a dress in the wind
half a kite
half a fuck
half a bed
one half left of
a burning thing
half my words on
paper
the rain falls upon
the desert
empty pool
your grave old
and fresh
the wine burns my throat
your ghost hair
around my lips
on the bottle
my heart half a heavy
drop
of blood
where you are now I
hate to imagine
your stone a mystery
your heart lying beneath
dried to dust
and untouchable
the rain falls on the desert
the moonlit Balearic Sea
reaches for us still.
