Lingering bitter

Lingering bitter on the tips of my fingers

cigarette smoke and the smell of you.

Morning frost silent on glass while my bed

spins round and round in tequila afterthought.

Or is that my head?

There is a dent in my chest now, a missing part,

where the wind feels cold and I feel numb,

where you whittled the curve of my heart

to properly fit in the shape of your palm.

Tongue too sharp, thoughts too loud, disruptive voice

in your complacent static noise,

slivers of me shaved off one by one

as years went by in your toxic lullaby.

Grandmother’s smile in the evening and her apple pie,

wishes on dandelions into the sky,

peach fuzz shaved off on and on,

in alcohol vapour of your numbing love.

It hurt, and I did not feel, sedated instead

in a whisper of love conquers all.

And it did.

Conquered my heart, my ground, my shining star,

in alcohol vapour, now cleared from my head.

Morning frost on my window, pellucid and cold,

old sparrows in the oak tree above,

now too bright to reach or to forget.

After all the things lost, illusions have ebbed,

and you are only my drunken regret.