Miss Quoted

img_20170127_220819“Write drunk…..” Edited soberly when the bubble burst with he didn’t say that. On scotch or the green stuff I’ve read to love so much, like ivy trailing down my bookshelves. Impotency implied, implied like reread intelligence, damn brilliance on ice. Twice for empathy, oh Brett. Yet, I wish I had her clothes. Those flip quotes my mouth could never form. Nor, that ease. Pretty to drink, but it’s print. He didn’t speak much, I don’t think. As I lean against a written arm in the back seat of that taxi, I’m drunk. Stuck on bloody bull ears in love. She wasn’t. I would have told her. She wouldn’t listen with a half laugh.
That turns its head. Yet, red silked bookmarks go to war. For whom, I’ll cross that bridge twice told.


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