Touchè

regurgitated bits of 
long masticated memories
your every imperfection 
stained
sweet upon my lips
drunk on dis-stilled spirits
the tang of demons 
on my tongue  
by my own breathe
I am left inebriate
as we, I sup upon.

Barry, a fellow poet and otherworldly kindred spirit, has written a poem entitled, Not Like That, But Deeper Still that wrenched from me such emotion I could answer it only with poetry.

Though I find the culmination of these words sorely lacking, I dare not devote anymore time to these memories for surely to do so would be my downfall…

Touchè..

14 thoughts on “Touchè”

  1. Oh my. This is really good. A fine answer to my poem. I’m humbled that you were moved by my words to create this. The pangs of longing are deeply felt.

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    • I am a woman upon whose rocky shores many an adrift man has found respite, but in only one did I find love. Your words caused me to to feast on the fermented leavings of a love much more grandiose in memory than it ever was in life. But sup I did..

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      • I have prying questions that I’m dying to ask that I dare not ask. I’m just glad that you shared this much. 🙂

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