Doorways

 

 and I reopen it inspite of her.

to feel my barefeet of cold marble, stalking,

the scent of your perfume- lingers,

saunters back and forth like hipsway

carrying me past portraits,

                    exotic,

                         elusive,

driving me to drink on 18 yr old scotch, and

waft in the essence of whole leaf wrap smoke.

 

past doorways of empty furniture with dust covered ruffles,

through languid cemetary of earthen design,

her lilting voice carries, like silk on the wind...

seeping ever deeper, my thoughts keep imploring

as to shadings of meaning,

                    his unrequited love.

 

she has left him long forgotten

w/ tires idle,

engine rev,

spinning in the mud.

 

 

 

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