By Bradley Hamlin
Rachmaninoff
and I feel her brown eyes
like oblivion and bliss
listening to
“Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini”
at 3 a.m.
tired
but I slept when I held her
in her house last night
and those eyes were closed
to drunken winters
and I wonder how she looks when
she’s blue
and high on red wine
I’ll find out
and the piano sounds so
fucking awesome
violins are not bad
friendships are mostly fleeting
and love usually lies …
I stare at the dark cracks
in the white ceiling
and I know
I am falling
upward
outward
upside down
into the unknown
I am lost
and I am falling.
Category: Poetry