Bottled Confidences

September 14, 2012

Upon ledges and inconstant woods, Your thirsty words, though concise, became redoubted. Yet still- we watched and waved, we blamed and waited. The sky you’d painted fell, tainted, ruined by the night. And as it attacked in blues and blacks, we listened and heard our breathing be clean and our smoking out-

The skin-soft breeze filled the air and lured the boats in. They waited, watched and waved and halted. We sang; and our feet were wet and our kisses salted – but then, from a sudden, far off. Somewhere close… way away, in the distance, a tugboat whistled- yet still. We managed. You stayed afloat in shouts and flails; drowning in the whites of sails. In a clamour,

Soaked to your own heavy bones. It was drunken and sobering. My confidences bottled, shattered and failing – The tides they came in, creeping, still -

Still,

and still.

I’m bleeding in blues and blacks.

(i was drunk)

they say write drunk and edit sober, pssh. who edits this shit

Written by Robotic Rhetoric Posted in Writing, Musings, Literature, Poetry, blog, Creative Writing, Short Story, Entertainment, Life Tagged with poem, water, blues, blacks, drowning, soft breeze, flails, heavy bones