Poetry Wanderings

Some who wander are lost...

B rave

We gamble

on late nights

under street lights

with liquored lips and swaying hips

Fleeting gasps of youth

driving us to strobe lights

Lively and lonely

weighted with questions we sling away.

Will tonight be catharsis

a forever memory that shuts out the insecurity?

moves us together?

frees us from our own scrutiny?

We gamble

Will the musk of drink curdle

on slackened mouths leaking pain.

Drama biting back on truths

we never meant to speak.

God. damn. drink.

And when tomorrow comes with heavy limbs

and low

head-throbbing

laughs,

lies we hide with it-never-happened eyes

whisper if you can

into the

split

of your headache:

"Was it worth the ante?"

Vocal chords a gun cocked and loaded The knowledge of how to emotionally

kill keeping her throat coated with the gravity of metal pulling on tenuous

strings their hearts to her chasmic being Every conversation an act

on a tight wire not the performer’s death

hanging in the silence

of perspiring palms

clenching teeth

Not her own demise

dangling delicately

their faults her

faltering self control

tasting the temptation

of desire unspoken

words cocked.

Waiting to fire.