Brie: It's What's For Breakfast

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Departures

Tonight, I’ll level this house.
But now, to save myself, here’s a hemlock
created to keep me sane:
Librium soaked in tequila is washed away
with an Alka-Seltzer chaser.

I sit alone in a red room
Waiting for your punch line.
Your joke is not funny
And I sip the cocktail
Designed to fill me with venom.

You cleared your throat last night
In your sleep you rolled over,
Embraced your pillow.  Morning came
And you said you loved me,
Pretending I didn’t feel you
Touching her as you touched me.

Today I asked about the girl in your pillow.
You shrugged and looked the other way.
You tried not to smile as
Icicles grew around your teeth.

I take another poison swallow.
It shudders through me like primed gunpowder
And I wait to explode.

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September 4, 2006 - Posted by | Creative Writing, Poetry

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