I always wonder if she hates herself in the morning
The hangover morning after
She wakens me without pattern or warning
All through the night
The last wine-sodden night
Ringing and dinging
With intoxicated texts of love
Pinning me to the mattress
The heavy weight of her naked words
Straddling my broken heart
Rocking my inner man with sadistic pleasure
Between orgasmic hope and flaccid despair
Answer honestly
Truth or Dare?
The face of my phone glows in the dark
The 2 AM dark
Pulsing with mystery
A recent history
Another new romance without a name
I play her vengeful game
She loves me
She loves me not
Sentences flash cold and hot
This goddess
Who gives and takes away
When there’s nothing left to say
Dresses in silence
Hails a taxi
Enters the day
Plunges deep into a cold gray sea of forgetfulness
What is faithfulness?
The rising of the moon
That will bring her back soon
With the incoming tide and two bottles of wine
She’ll slur one hopeful line
And
For a breathless moment
She’ll be mine again
All mine
—————-
Andrew Dabar
The Dating Game
I love the narrative! Very neon. I know that’s not the most accurate description, but the urban placement and story makes me think of neon marquees on rainy nights,over blurry skylines. Very good!!
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A compliment coming from one of my favorite modern poets, I shall strut for days! I love the vision this poem has created in your brilliant mind, Watt.
Even though this tiny piece is simple in content and form, writing it wasn’t. Half a tablet of paper later, wadded and littering the tacky carpet of a seedy motel room just outside of Washington DC, I almost gave up …. HATED the original version! Last night, late in the evening, I stared at what I had written so far, sipped some fresh coffee with French vanilla, played a song that best interpreted and tweaked my mood, a piano piece by Yiruma entitled, “Wait There” (over and over and over), thought of someone I love, and penned something entirely different, retaining only one line from the original! Needless to say, a response from you made the effort quite worth it.
Sometimes I don’t know why we do what we do! I don’t know if your writing comes easy to you or if you have to go through hours of hot fire to consume all the dribble drab dross.
Anyway, I think that you’ll be amused by a secret of mine. I enjoy your writing so much that, not long ago, I attempted to imitate you. Epic fail!
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Writing something is definitely a struggle. It requires difficult multiplication of time and mind so it can sar over the page, and blanket it with the product!
And you don’t need to imitate anybody. Even your description of the writing process was profoundly descriptive. I’m certain it wasn’t an epic fail, you have such skill and deftness with scenes and images that the creation must’ve been close to rare.
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*soar
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Thank you. Your encouragement means so much to me!
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Bravo, Andrew! So much emotion dripped from your words that I almost drowned in the river. Love and hate intertwined in a tight, sodden knot. For her…for yourself…for both? All I can say is it twisted my insides to read while feeding my love of all thing dark.
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I am thrilled! Your response has made my day. I struggled so hard with this poem… what to say, what not to say, how best to say it. The barest thread of hope at the end, thin as a spiderweb.
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Where would we be without hope? Better the smallest glimmer than none at all.
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An excellent piece of writing. Bravo.
A very insightful poem.
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I woke up to your kind words today. Thank you!
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