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You Were Better Blurry |
You were better blurry
fuzzed out around your edges by darkness, by
alcohol, by the dancing people surrounding us
you seemed softer when you were blurry
when you were touchy
when you were slurry, and
later, when you died the little death
You were better blurry,
walking beside me through the snow that Christmas afternoon in
the park, chin tucked into your deep collar against the cold
hands invisible inside your pockets, your
corners blunted and your voice dampened by
clumps of soft, numbing flakes, but
you seemed somehow more interesting, more present beside
me, when you were partially obscured
You were better blurry
calling me too early in morning on the day after
cursing and ranting across the new miles between us, and
for the first time I heard you clearly
I was furious that I almost wanted to dance with you again, so
I cut you off mid-sentence, and
then I went alone to the bed we had shared
and died the little death
copyright 2017
Tom
Irish |
