Orchestra. 

An outstanding performance

of plucked thoughts and plans. 

Hands clasped together,

applauding over paper programs.

You’ve done well. 

A beautiful set.

And for just a moment,

I’m so in love.

We touch you on the arm 

as you exit through the back.

I watch you go.

While holding your hand still in my head

Legs crossed over your lap.

Our flask tucked into your front pocket.

And now, I am alone. 

Under a bright light.

Is it falsity? 

Simply advertised;

I feel the wetness. 

Left by your lips on my forehead.

Your sweet hand,

Tucked between my thighs. 

Glancing around. The lights are off.

No violins or ghostly songs.

I turn my cheek 

to look into your eye.

You are gone.

It’s just me.

Sitting in a church pew.

With a little gin on my lips.

And a fading smile,

That you happened to leave behind. 

The stage is empty. And the church is filled 

with the resting odor of sanctity.