Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Sitting in a bar listening to chatter.
Talk of people doing right.
Talk of people doing wrong.
Tom Waits over the stereo.
It's a good thing for men to wade in cliche.
Good thing for women too.
Robert Johnson now.
Give the bartender a story.
He gives me a free drink.
It is a good story.
Not yet over.
Now my drink, it's in a jar.
And my thoughts now drift back,
Because of this black rose.
To you.
Passion and flesh that seemed to melt.
Closeness, only perceived.
Never truly realised.
But realise this,
In the absence of that which you truly want.
It is better to yearn.

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