We’ve been here before
But that shouldn’t assuage our fear
Experience doesn’t equal conformity
Is it a virtue we’re still here?
For the dregs are apocalyptic survivors
Fated to exist forever it seems
Is there anything to contribute
Through (within) a love we might be redeemed(?)
The carcasses of inspiration
Wine glasses with Burgundy residue
Speaking to late nights & early mornings
Scribbles in the margin on the follow through
Feeling parched as I wake
Noticing your lipstick stains
Upon the rim of the glass
Reminding me of the dreams that remain
Bleary eyed, drinking the coffee grounds
Searching for a fate within the dregs
Fumbling over these typewriter keys
Lightheaded when I see your naked legs
Your smile is a distraction
But you pop a button & then one more
I’m at your complete mercy
Once the nightgown hits the floor
Image by TastyCinnamonn from Pixabay
Sitting out on the porch swing
Skirt spread flat over rocking legs
Exhausted from the daily routine
Tired of sharing life with the dregs
Closing weary eyes to dream again
Imagining a reassuring, masculine form
Knowing this could finally be different
This could be comfort in the coming storm
Captain Q 