You Are Never More Beautiful Than You Are in a Smoke-Filled Room

You are never more beautiful than you are in a smoke-filled room

On cheap pleather seats the same shade maroon as my

Cracked chipped fingernails

That I bite now nervously as I watch a scene unfold

In muted electricity

I saw it all in pictures

(The fading fluorescent light on your cheekbones like knives

(The way you brought your tan deft fingers—“I’m familiar with this”

(To the careless set of your mouth

 

We go outside and see that the moon knew we were playing at our dreams with cue sticks

Trying to get unwritten poems into the pockets

So we could have an excuse to put our typewriters

Onto the green table instead of colored balls

Which we toss to the places where the stars once stood

Before we stole them

 

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2 comments

  1. GottaKnowWriteNow · February 3, 2016

    I’m a big fan of your writing. I like this one a lot. Cheers.

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