They say
don’t sit at the bar too long
alone
people will get funny ideas
they’ll think you’re a drunk
they’ll think you’re a lush
they’ll think you wanted it
when you wanted
nothing
but to stare into the glass
watching amber liquid come and go
drinking until the edges blur
and the day is no longer painful
until you begin to forget
you are unhappy
and you watch lovers
dance slow on wet pavement outside
watching how graceful her wrists rise above her head
and his eyes follow the shape of her gleaning neck
understanding time differently
you were once, that moment
you stood in the very same pealing door way
you removed your long coat, your breasts blooming like night jasmine
they watched you with intention
not that curled side-ways glance
of lazy people who no longer see
for now, years flung ahead in time
you are just a piece of splayed furniture, unused
watching through hooded eyes
the slow unfurling of radiating youth
a delight spilt out into cawing streets
abundant with summer dew
and your memory, her cheeks are round like fruit
when she smiles and pulls on her dark cigarette
you want to capture all of it
deep in the bottom of your 6th empty glass
where a favorite song once played
causing you to rise
from your heavy seat.
Excellent writing
This poem really resonated with me. A sad nostalgia tinged with regret..
A heavy seat, indeed, weighted by time and memory, and some escape from the present.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – Emptied glasses
Amazing and yet so approachable that I feel I have a good inkling of your narrative here. Your words play out like a silent dance, touching on youth and non-youth, so on changing, on loss, at how things may seem impossible now. Know that to the people who matter, who know you, you will never be dismal splayed furniture, rather, you will always be a cherished antique, and heirloom, something of beauty which even Time cannot erode or lessen. Where do you think the young lady learned to dance, by the way? She may have seen you dancing, back when she was a child.
Beautiful and poignant.
Such sad reflections
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
Thank you so very much
🙂 I love these thoughts ! Thank you my friend. I do believe life and truth dance hand in hand with imagination.
Thank you so much dearest Nikita. I hope we will see your work in a future anthology of ours – xo
thank you so very much dearest E
You’re welcome. 🙂