soon forgetting why

Whenever I’m alone with you and so the question remains, what did Delphi want from me, some kind of father, the seventies light rock guru who had shared a musical background of unusual scope with me, validation by proxy, some credit, perhaps vainly spoken, recognition for seeing some wisdom, talent, insight, humor in my daily rants on long forgotten boards, intrigued, perhaps, but distant, holding off, aloof seeking satisfactions in the bottom of a bottle, in the confines of a bra. Clues picked up on, understood appreciated in minor degrees, implicit recognition of truths contained in the stern meaning of reality brought to bear. Stare, dare, hair, bare, instructions belied, denied, mind, kind, sling, slong, slung, to thee I sing. My eyes follow her motions across the crowded room, curiously, soon forgetting why

Lord Malinov, Song of Songs

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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