coffeewhiskey

mmmmm, sad writings, maybe I was serious when i asked that girl to marry me.

You were the watercolors
your brush stroke eye lashes would paint,
on old cheek easels
with enough blush to saturate sunsets on first dates.
In an old white car,
with hazard lights that wince every other second in pain,
what long terrible gasps heard the stereo that day,
on the side of the road,
with no knowing place to go,
on what accounts are you willing to stay?

Five streamers lie down your bumper
like exclamation marks tied down tired,
one tin can survived the two mile hike
you made it away from your new life,
your veil still drawn it's hard to drive through,
like rain and snowflakes of tears and lace,
though the evidence of your struggle
played out well for your better dressed court date,
it turns out the bride in white,
had to turn the engine over twice
before she made her get away.
and in between those terrible chokes
someone somewhere heard her say,
"I do, I do" with her cheap fingernails buried
broken in the dash
in the most unhealthy way.