Alcoholic Poetry 16

your bewildered heart
beats on unceremonious;
in the was that is
we are now unto it given.

cold junkets of love
leave doting dreams
unattended; skeletons
turn to dust as we wait,

for all those things
to change that never will.

i have every night we
spent together, to prove
to me what i once was, but
it still isn't real.

it couldn't have been, otherwise
it would still be true.

if not here with me now,
then when, if ever could
you have been?

waking to the sky
too soft, and confessions
of friends, so the same,
lovers lost.

but what is gone
declares itself as never
having been, by the token
that it was not sought.

in dangerous nights with
your thoughts, you abide your
truth, until none is kind
and all is false.

it's alone that we are,
together or apart;
i've always known this,
so why is it more real tonight?

that we wore each other
lik faded jeans, until
we'd known no other skin.

that it became so true to me,
that i could believe the same of you.