Blood Muse

impressions of the night:
my delight
is arriving through the door.
I've had too much by eleven,
you've had enough again.

Black lips, darling,
left on my finger tips.
Compares the deepness
to the ridges on my skin.

Impressions at midnight:
my sight
is slipping out the door.
You thought I left out the back,
and now you're sprinting cross the tracks.

Black tears, honey,
I wiped onto my dress.
Compares the company
We lost to the West.

You asked me not to go,
but I was thinking about leaving
so long
before you asked me.

You're thinkin about an old muse,
I'm thinkin about mine,
You've got patience,
I've got time.