Funeral

Sit by your wineglass like a funeral
a kitchen just like a pew
never thought I’d be here like this
spilled my soul out
to a dirty floor,
sold my soul out
to a revolving door

and I can’t stop thinking
as I look at the ceiling where
champagne has wet and dried
where celebrations came to die

what if I had put my plate
a little to the left,
what if I had done would you said,
would we be in the right place?
would we be sleeping in bed?

A 30 second window,
now I sleep alone instead.









Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.