I thought I saw you in the sepia scenes
of a bottle last night.
Past those hazy memories
of blacked out nightfall,
my golden tears –
I thought I heard you say you were
brewing the storm of an era.
The clouds rolled in, thereafter,
in under an hour span,
with winds slurring in anguish.
All hands on deck –
by god, you rocked me to my core.
I lost my heel on the floorboard,
dropped my composure into the sea.
you’ll be left sailing upon waves of gold,
have only left.