Red painted lips
In the inky black
Of her room
A vodka sip
Burning a long line into the depths of an ache
Deeply dormant
Face to face
With past ghosts
Fragrant with dusty books and the hard covered dreams
Long ago shelved
The red lip stained glass
Drained
Yet wet with the cold memory
She adoringly gazes into its emptiness
And settles deep into thoughts of long sunsets
Long gone
Which way do you look
When you look back?
Is it possible to dream in reverse
And land on a mountaintop
With your pen
And your paper
Already
Writing
The thoughts you've never had?
