She’s a #2 lead pencil
dependable and rigid
never marking outside
the lines she clings to
sober conformity and
clear-headed restraint
where temperance and
razor sharp edges keep
her sheltered & serene.
I’m a brilliant red crayon, vivacious and wild, as I thrust and penetrate weak margins in the puritanical gray world of her dinner parties. Offended by my brutal sarcasm and dazzling wit, drinks are quietly watered down and my car keys are seized and held hostage. I am invincible as I gulp the dregs from empty glasses and ignore the anxious whispers-retaliation a sexy grind on the lap of a horrified guest. The ritualized apology will come with a tearful phone call when I sober up and offer another hollow promise of redemption. Jagged scars and tainted secrets soothed as I’m forgiven [again) in a baptismal purity that can only be accomplished through prayer and the knowledge that she was once like me.
Inconsistent and scattered
worn down to a melting nub
an excessive ardent spirit;
trapped within an empty vessel
alone until happy hour.
