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A Bourbon Dream

A pencil pad numbness grows
As I reach the shores of
Your multitude.
The room is dim—taken
Granted with your silhouette.
I yearn for some song—
Some reminder of the times
In between—youth to love.
The soft ligh growing from the antique lamp makes love
To you hair, a thoroughbred
Of tough antiquities.
Where do you come from?
Born not of this lust—but
Of a passion far less than
Deserved. I weep as I set
To discover. Blonde—bits
Of shooting candy to fill up
Cheeks of pages. It is a
Bourbon dream. From night to
Dawn—creation will exist.
As the sun finally rises,
The smoke is cleared.
And you blush.
A river of gold you will
Simmer in—such a fog of
Design. The handles are
Christened with years,
And I notice you’ve
Left the door ajar.
Lavender mixes with whiskey,
Yet precision its at
It’s best as I open
The dewy window.
Can you hear the silence?
A reflection is
Revealed as the
Glass urges its edges up.
Another swig, another
Breath, and one last
Look.
I whisper quietly
To the ground sweet
Nothings of a life through
The pen—and then
It ends, as always.
I blush.



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Comments

The following comments are for "A Bourbon Dream"
by wishmeawayx

on the dream
excellent treatment of brooding at the bar.

Do you like rhyme? This poetry can also have a rhymed version.
-------
Depression:
Ice
3 1/2 oz Bourbon (Jim Beam)
2 oz Pepsi Cola
2 oz Mountain Dew
Available at Teflon's Bar in Writingforums.com
-----

( Posted by: Teflon [Member] On: October 8, 2004 )





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