Maybe it was the way the light changed
So suddenly and silently and deadly.
Maybe it was the whiskey smell
that clung to you like aftershave.
Maybe it was the small ting,
lighting up your hand like a sign from God.
Maybe it was the screaming from the backseat
so scratchy and scary and bitter.
Or maybe it was me?
Who held your innards,
glistening in rampant d i s a r r a y .
While your eyes lost F o
c u s,
and your voice strength
Maybe it was the darkness of night
thatclungtothestreetliketar.
But maybe it was me.
The knowledge pressed against my skull,
but the buzz beat me to the grave,
and
the
grave
was
yours.
They tell me it wasn't me.
But they do not know.
How hard the knowledge presses against my skull!
Razor dug my
blades within temples.
like the glass shard in yours.
Splitting open delicate v e s s e l s
and releasing i n t o x i c a t i n g fumes.
Maybe it was the constant-rush
of another drink.
and another.
and another.
But maybe it was me?
Who survived with only scratches.
Maybe it was me,
Who tossed you the keys.
I don't know I wanted to play with the format of words and sentences. Hope it worked out.
