"Carolina Blonde"

"Carolina Blonde"
in a mocking array by jake kilroy.

Some years after you faded into the mountain ash,
of trees that burned or yearned to be churned,
evolving into the paper that carries my poetry,
which are really just mildly disguised threats,
I remembered you, over and over.

And I thought of all the photographs stuck inside my dresser,
all the trinkets that had fallen behind my desk,
and the mass army of jewelry you left on my nightstand,
even after all those fights we had on the floor,
and I thought of how we ruined.

So, you built a log cabin out of a stifling apartment,
and I grew my hair out to match the cigarettes,
which always dangle lower than my slurry tongue,
as I always kissed the bottle rim more than your pink lips,
and I couldn't stop laughing.

The sun came up, and I still hadn't an appetite,
as I remember the taste of you more than any breakfast,
and even then, I didn't sink the prayer of a long drive,
but got dressed, wiping away the ache of my eyes,
with a slight pain in my grin.

But don't think me sentimental, as I rarely keep it clean,
as I'm one to taint the purest of excuses with afterthoughts,
but instead, I just thought of the past like a tornado,
a beautiful wreck that won't ever hit my house again,
while I sleep heavier than you.