Without, I still have stories to tell

Forgive me, my love, for
letting you in. I threw open my arms
and smelled cardamom sin
rise up from the coffee and into my throat.
I was floating reckless and I wanted
a story to tell,
but my life was not ashen
before you entered and I fell
as a speck of dust spirals
through light flashing with lust.
I thought there could be more to you
than cigarettes and blank curls, so
forgive me, my love, for not wanting to lose
something I never had
with someone
I never knew.
 
 
 
 
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4ffqxn/to_beat_a_dead_horse/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4gxzbf/things_to_do_at_the_university_of_minnesota