The Night You Cheated

red hooded sweatshirts stained with deceiving escapes,

October nights and there untold stories,

stitched themselves up and down your sleeves,

leaves smashed into the cotton of your thread,

were leaves once dead,

yet brought back to life from the sins in your secrets,

plenty of verbal pornography,

plenty of spread for that bread you kept in our pantry,

while I sat at home eating peanut butter and crackers,

smiling out loud,

believing you were watching the foliage change,

viewing abstract colors dance in electric slow motion,

retracing the trails we'd walked together,

simultaneously; the only thing out loud,

was his name from beneath an Oak,

that bleached my face from your shirt,

Our story ripped off,

cured by another anecdote like a seasonal cough,

when you touched a face that wasn’t there during pains in your past,

or when fed from a spoon when you thought life was at its last,

or in the moments you blushed under silk sunsets,

beneath sky playing muted music for our souls to mingle with,

was he there then?

NO.

he was a Lifetime movie sex scene sabotaged in generic proof,

promising mystery potions and heroin truth,

desirable as dropped change in a toll booth,

dreams are the photos we develop in our own heads,

they take infinite processing time,

costing us everything to keep in a scrapbook,

and I do have time,

days and days of time,

to meditate and hallucinate,

on why it all went

down

By: Bryan Matthew Boutwell / LiveFiction.net