A slow, building waltz
pauses outside my bedroom door,
the crescendo knocks politely
at the base of my hips.
I remember the way
your spine said goodnight,
for once graceful
as you walked away from me.
The floor retains fleeting heat.
Your scent drifts across the highway
through my half-open front door.
I flick ashes into the night air.
Settling like dust
on a forgotten shelf,
I again fall into an empty bed,
check, but not check mate, tonight.
_
pauses outside my bedroom door,
the crescendo knocks politely
at the base of my hips.
I remember the way
your spine said goodnight,
for once graceful
as you walked away from me.
The floor retains fleeting heat.
Your scent drifts across the highway
through my half-open front door.
I flick ashes into the night air.
Settling like dust
on a forgotten shelf,
I again fall into an empty bed,
check, but not check mate, tonight.
_
Julie M. Tate is a freelance artist and journalist currently residing in Tulsa, OK though she considers Chicago home. Her poetry has been featured in numerous anthologies including The Great American Poetry Show and is the owner, author and editor of Gossip and the Devil, a creative/lifestyle blog focused on poetry, vicodin, jetsetting and boys with brown eyes.
