Vomit, unintelligible telephone conversations.
You may have tried to change everything
but I know, behind oversized sunglasses,
your eyes are brown. You take them off
from time to time to remind me briefly
how we used to believe in magic.
You wash your face in a marble sink
a gravestone. Toothpaste epitaphs
are grim, a crooked smile in the mirror.
Filed under: Past, Poetry, Reality | Leave a Comment
Tags: believe, best friends, brown, change, conversations, crooked, drunk, everything, eyes, face, gravestone, grim, magic, make-believe, marble, mirror, Poetry, remind, sink, smile, sunglasses, telephone, toothpaste, vomit, wash