Nothing to fear as the door I closed stood ajar and half hinged.
I felt like I was the door and adored by shadows galore.
Silent happening on the second floor of a well lit night.
Full moon dragging stars like cars across the divide.
Big fingered empty trees clutching at windows fresh with windex.
This is all real and part of midnight invited for dinner.
Across the floor, I felt nothing but smooth pine and the glory of going back to the seven pillow bed.
My glass of water was all gone before the bed was in view.
I must find a smaller thirst or bigger glasses.
My favorite thing was still there sleeping and slipping on fall leaves.
I could feel the apple cider hanging above her apple blossom face.
Sweet cherubs coming over with smiles of the nights of orange rhymes.
I had to check for the breath before my dreams could attack.
Her eyes just rolled slow to ceiling and said more than all ten fingers.
Those cold skeleton fiends she could keep to herself.
I always had the question of the ribbon she kept as a security around her ivory giraffe neck.
Twice I tried to entice and coax the removal of those goods.
Fashion is such a changing trend I just sit and pull on another t shirt.
Still on a night so safe and charmed I need to know a fear of common ground.
Does my lover have a head attached?
Is she a brain of a friend in need?
Do two nice sharp dents upon that white clean snow enjoy the dentist
Why must these scarves enjoy and adorn that neck more than me.
Half way thru the removing of the magic trick, the door gets drunk and a buzz.
I curse down stairs I would rather climb.
Swear loud at the chair she moved to better her mood.
Toward the light and upon the big heavy door I rest tired eyes.
My fumbling for the knob tells me to go back to decaffeinated, or more rum.
Cold tarnished silver knob pulls open the whole world on fire.
Before my eyes go leaves on a bender, cats on the alleys call, birds to trees bare,
young kids wearing all black back to their average house.
I hate this idea my house of Usher house is falling and failing.
Over forty is a hill turning to mountain once the presence of young leaves this door closed.
Back to old stairs I take my new desire now taking flights of stairs to Chicago air and port.
I thought of the kitchen and the scissors on the table.
Thoughts digress as the other contents in the cupboard come to mind and think about belly.
I’m back to end the begging of needles into soft sides of weak arguments.
Twice she convinced me the world like my lattes is flat and white.
My fingers go numb as they try to untie so much mystery.
Scarlet was her new design for that barely hair touched neck.
Last second designs for the future became sharp jagged rocks of Annabelle the enabler.
Too late to care and take stock of options or cash buyouts.
A final gasp of air takes out the lights.
My idea to save the fashion trends and quirks went to the floor.
Red ribbon of cold shocked blood to my now aging fast carbon bones.
Rolled out of the warm fresh angel bed went the head.
Echo of all the words her voice scolded to my virgin ears made perfect hell sense.
She would have been better off wearing Jack’s lantern.
Beauty fell head over heels.
Witches took to brooms and sky to lament the passing.
My sweet headless Barbie doll must be taken to the great family vault.
This was no my fault of my own.
Justice was blind and keeping track off the bluff.
I was only falling into the family plot.
Love has cursed this house from rolling head to stubbed toe.
I will drink til smashed pumpkins resemble my life.