We saved the corks
for the fishing trips we never took.
All that's left now is midnight,
smoke ascending in silence
towards an open sky,
never holding us close enough
to lift these bent wings.
I watched him with a swollen heart
while he slept and I couldn't.
I don't think he knew.
I loved the arcane surrounding him.
Inhaling the haze
left by alcohol, feeling the density
of cologne & perfume mingled with sweat,
I'd remember the time he gave me roses,
laughing well into dawn.
Not fresh & fragile in a delicate vase,
but a thin branch poked into a mound of striated soil
as he whispered "patience ~
the blooms will come when they're ready".
I'm still waiting,
wandering alone
in this damnable drifting
of torrential truths...
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Your corks are dangerous, girl! I'm swallowing my heart again reading this. I concur heartily with your other fans... you poetry is love lingering lovely, too! 
I guess that means I loved it all! Honestly, I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. Very poignant; very moving. 
Nope...I'm still tryin' to catch up with the rest of ya. Thank you, my Friend. Lovely to see you here once more. 
