Dying of the Light

All for a Flimsy Metaphor

All for a flimsy metaphor

That now

I can't even

Remember.

We danced 

We fucked

We swore, we lied

And made inaudible sounds

We drank

Every toxin around.

The night was black

There wasn't a star in sight 

The moon was wan

There was no light  –

No one to witness 

Our tragic plight.

As we stumbled and fell

Unconscious and blurry-eyed

Reeking of alcohol and vomit

Cigarettes and blood –

You pushed yourself 

Into me.

And I couldn't remember your last name or the colour of your eyes

Or why I had come all this way

And agreed to such a ghastly night

All I remember was the blood trickling down the side of your face

And you comparing life to a metaphor 

From some Bukowski poem

But now – 

It is morning

My mind is foggy, my eyes are red

And there is vomit on my new dress

And all that –

For some flimsy metaphor.

That now

I can't even remember.