She Left To Spain
I woke up to an empty apartment-
she was gone but before doing so
she had cleaned the living room
and the kitchen, washed all the dishes
and arranged all the empty beer bottles
out on the porch- it's 14 cent for each empty bottle
and we had drank so many I could easily get
a small bottle of vodka out of all these done for
vehicles of intoxication.
I wrapped myself with the sheets to smell her perfume
and stood awkward in my living room noticing
the silence appearing like a stranger in my house
remembering how she danced the night before
drunk and wild and untamed like northern lights over
the ceiling of the world- all that beautiful sunray of a woman
with something infinite in her eyes flying to spain.
I went to the bathroom and puked my guts out in the toilet
still wrapped with the sheets and I saw it for what it was-
myself trying to get rid of myself-
as the misery drooled from the sockets
and all those terrible stains of horror on the mirror
waiting for a single glance-
and I turned my head to look at the couch
in the living room where she liked to lie naked
with only her bra on- her nipples half showing to
the hungry wells of my eyes-
but there was nothing but a demon strolling around
waiting to get a hold of me.
They don't know
they don't even suspect
how close we are to madness
we're left alone.