Red stained cigarette butts
nothing I say gets to her
it is not a lot.
“Do you even listen?”, she asks.
Yes that’s all I do.
I repeat what she said
and she continues.
The smoke reigns over the room
Her eyes break the fog
blue, green, brown, who cares?
“Another one?”, she asks
and hands me a glass
before I can protest
but I couldn’t say “No”.
That’s not who I am.
I drink and I listen
that’s all I can do
“So, you are writer?”, she asks
“What are you writing for?”
“A girl”
“Ahhh”, she proclaims
like she could understand
She throws her hand
over her shoulder and laughs.
Nobody can.
I feel sick.
Like a symptom of an illness.
I drink.
She blushes.
It is not her.
but I won’t correct the misunderstanding.
It comes down to distract yourself
from the girl in the dress
with the flowers and eyes and the smile
till you fill a shelf with wishes,
nightmares, pain and love.
