"Leave it for the Emperor
of Doggerel," they threatened.
Coke off college toilet tanks.
Clinging to an era.

The angel wings on shoulder blades
you slept between were flawed:
heavy-handed shading
not centered on her spine.

Wine obscured her recollection
of the time she grabbed your hand
walking home on Main Street
both too gone to go.

But she always wiped her makeup
to spare your favorite pillows
and she understood innately
why you left her for a chance.

Currently reading:
"The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde.

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