Back to that Night

Grab me out of this,
what is this,
I’m not sure if this
is anything more than a dream,
but grab me out of this
before I think
back to that night

when I’m surrounding
myself with your stare,
and god help me,
it’s haunting
and daunting
and painfully sing-song rhythm,
cliché love,
white knight,
dark prince,
aborted mother,
fostered father,
and every goddamn thing I throw in your face
then curse myself out for using a lord’s name in vein.

My lord?
Hell, not for me to claim one God over another.
I’m not claiming you as a goddess
but I sure as shit can’t find a word
that doesn’t feel as good as a curse
upon everything brought out of the revelry
of a pain so true
I changed the name from “love” to “black”
and she sticks to me like butter on burnt toast.
She clings to me like a shadow in the noonday sun
—a ghost.

Walk out that door
but check your face
in the broken mirror on the floor
for the wrinkles not yet formed,
children not yet born,
marriages not yet failed,
and razors not yet cut.

I’ll never see it again,
you again,
a breeze again,
surf on my face again,
at least not awake,
or then
at least not in a state
I could transcend
into anything more
than pain.

And my head’s throbbing,
and everyone’s staring,
and I think
‘Yes, she’s beautiful.
Long, brown hair?
Like I could forget.
Impossibly perfect?
Maybe for tonight.’

And maybe I won’t dream
of that night.

Back to that Night

Dave Legere

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
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Artwork Comments

  • Melissa Vowell
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