I loved you once.

Really, I did.

It was a sweet candied apple, kind of love

a legs wide open, love

a love that knew each and every one of my secrets.

Love?

Do you remember the night 

that I wrote testaments across your body?

You a moonlite canvas pale as washed wool.

I dreamt mad Van Gogh blue skies,

wrapped up with you,

my love,

We lye tangled together 

strew across dimpled sheets

on many a humid city night.

I guess,

it must have been just another 

last drop of whiskey,

kinda love.

 Besides, I never was very good

at keeping a bottle around 

past dawn.