Under a canopy of starlit rain
You slurred on about the hollowed
Depths in your soul, and the blood
Sloshing in your cups. The virgin
Ran politely and delight sputtered
Through your flaccid eyes. Now I
Count lamp-lit drops, trying to find
You by trying to find me.
We were close in those years,
But what gods you saw, what gods
You created, I cannot remember.
Copyright 2010 by David Alastair Hayden