It’s only the drink

It was like a shadow dance,
barely perceptible to the eye.

I only thought to step nearer
The drinker shrank back.
Opposites do not always attract:
the drunk, the sober.

The drinker needed the distance
to be maintained – at least
two feet, and a half, between us;
at all times. Safe.

We were like a Danse Macabre,
without the orchestra.
A chasm of shame
Holding its sickly breath

A heartbreaking, shaking ritual
In the shadow of turning.

Posted on January 19, 2012, in Film, Music, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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