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SMOKE
I've got smoke in my hair,
The pool balls smashing hard,
Music from my memory screaming like old ache,
The beat of lonely riding my heart,
And she's getting married.
This smoke is crawling in all my pores,
Vocalist raw with alcohol
weaving "Every Rose Has Its Thorn"
like shots of acid through my mind,
Lines of healing scars bleeding while I sit still,
Ache and smoke stifling each breath,
But I smile and sing along.
Time is like smoke,
Hard, driving ribbons of toxic danger,
a tight noose carving lines in my neck,
Coughing up clots of diseased memory,
Each breath weaker against the rope of ache,
Hands clawing at this lonely pain chewing on my soul,
Its teeth marks vivid in this foolish smile,
Inhaling with lungs scarred from too many desperate nights fighting for
relief.
She used to love my smile,
Until she traced the pain with her tongue,
Her lips tasting my years walking the night alone,
Feverish raw ache lighting fire in my blood,
Something too hot for fingers to touch,
A fever she was afraid to catch,
Leaving me because I was some kind of fire too hot to tame,
And she was afraid of burning her hands.
My skin is dripping with smoke,
And I've got to go home,
Ride these night miles alone,
Wrap my fire around fantasies,
Dream out this dawn chasing some night woman who won't run,
Who will ride my fire deep and strong,
Drive at me with a raw fever of her own,
Set me alight with her years dodging the noose.
But right now the pool balls are smashing,
Drunks are laughing,
Smoke is stinging my eyes,
And I'm trying to smile,
And she's getting married.
- Leah Gardner