Nights are the hardest to survive alone.
Out in the moonlight she dances, beyond the fog,
Smiling with another man ripe in her memory's garden.
The wind rattles my window, a draft blows out my candle.
As the small hours wither into daylight she will haunt me;
Laughter and faded kisses in dusty gazebos at dusk,
Gin and candied apples on creaky piers before a storm.
In my cold bed my sober mind growls, my old limbs
Ache. I am too full of hate to forget those I loved.
April 30, 2007
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