Brenton Booth--Published poetry & fiction Archive
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PALE BLUE EYES
 
We used to get drunk
and dance slowly in
our tiny lounge room
thin and gaunt with
little money and bad
jobs
though happy to not
be a part of things
not to be trapped in
the false wheel of
success that never
goes anywhere
her with an empty
canvas
and me with an empty
page
hungry and wounded
but in love
individuals together in
a world of faceless crowds
dancing in our small
apartment
not needing another
thing
and I wonder if she
would remember now
the magic of all those
afternoons, mornings
and nights in her large
house with full cheeks
and bank account and
the kind of partner she
swore she’d never need
again
my guess is like me she
does her best to forget
those special memories
that do nothing now but
sting
and remind us of all that
got lost along the way.

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