writer | écrivain | ékwiven
older now
but no guarantees
of growing any wiser
less garrulous, much colder now
with no respite on the horizon
burn my love letters for warmth
those words were soft and hollow
basking nude in the sunlight
gin-soaked sweat flowing from my brow
the vultures feast on me like carrion
licking my bones, until the flesh is gone
yet each bite makes me feel alive
never thought I’d get to 35
lonely little lover sitting on the shelf, with plastic parts
all shiny and brand new and a tiny plastic heart
consumed with burning desire for you
“love her but it couldn’t work,” you know the old refrain and so years pass and you drift your separate ways.
maybe that’s all for the best, maybe you’re in love with being loved, just a lovely little loner spilling down the drain full of empty compliments and a desperate need to kiss away your pain,
it only hurts for a moment, an excruitaiting bliss, and then you’ve made it through,
that’s just the way
life works kid.
lights
this is your story
love
no matter how hard you tried
couldn’t get enough
all wrapped up in
pain/pity
plated in glory
a crash, a bang
how IT all began
and nearly ended
spinning
glass flying through the air
out onto road
now you’re here
alive
all wrapped up in
love
Hayden Winston 
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