My mistakes
walked away from me
in a pink dress
down memory lane
with another man
she died her hair blue
and learned how not
to look at me, with
complete disdain,
at my asphyxiated face
my saving grace
my delirium
sex, pain and regret
with impeccable taste
often dealt
at a moment’s notice
only if one cared to ask
the only question on
all our lips
is it easier to forget?
