Out of the wild

That time was dark
A world of silhouettes, cigarette smoke,
A place where light faltered,
Intimidated, burdened
With the smell of whiskey,

The taste of luxurious defeat
Swilled like fine wine gone sour.
The wind blows tough at night
When only fear lights the hollows
Of something like despair.

So here we are, the last of us,
Swizzle-eyed and weary,
Surviving escapees from
What can only be recalled dimly.

I look in the mirror and ask,
Was that really you?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s