you only call me drunk,
but I'd pass out next to you if I could,
an array of liquor above my head.

I'd stand in line with you,
hand in hand,
for a movie or for coffee,
if it wouldn't be worthless (scandalous).

Passing eyes on the street,
an unheard murmur of acceptance and roses;
music and apologies,
rises through the air.
So your eyes can smile at me now,
a revelation of past occurrences,
your grace and stature always stoic and demanding.

A spindle's end away from obnoxious,
our innocence never existed.