by Georgia Varjas
It started with a hand
out of the taxi,
a game of naked footsy under the table,
clinking wine glasses
till snowfall at dawn.
Sweet chestnuts roasted, and more
by the fireside.
Laughter and passion kept the icicles away.
Then, the bank offered a ladder to climb.
His teeth sparkled, pockets filled.
She smiled at the glass ceiling,
a cleavage smile and got there first.
After that, they only met at traffic lights.
The walls sighed at their loneliness.
The spiders moved in.
Whiskey spiked his words.
She threw the dictionary at him.
He put a TV in the bedroom,
she wore ear plugs
he took sleeping pills.
Routine came to visit.
Sweet love turned to cold soup.
They shared the bed but not the pillow.
Georgia Varjas tuned in and turned on to writing and singing her way through life.
#1 by fiona campbell on April 3, 2010 - 11:31 pm
mmmmm, liked this, esp. the last two lines!
#2 by John Ade Fowler on February 10, 2012 - 1:35 am
haooy happy birthday Georgia, many many happy returns x
#3 by John Ade Fowler on February 10, 2012 - 1:36 am
routine came to visit xxx