I woke up too early,
sun-stained and drowning
in a thick film of day old booze,
rocks in my throat and
temple burning under
3 pronged regret.
I was seduced and betrayed by cheap cabernet.
You are a fickle bitch.
I am a willing playmate.
Your fermented promises
tantalize my dormant taste buds of lust
and spin me in circles.
I am a dancer gliding
through pale bleary rooms,
reeling and spilling out over
carefully manicured edges.
I fall into your deep aubergine arms.
A chasm that softens the crash.

Susan Richardson is living, writing and going blind in Los Angeles. She shares a home with an Irishman, 2 pugs and 2 cats. She was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa in 2002, and in addition to poetry also writes a blog called Stories from the Edge of Blindness.

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