Fortress

Chanterelles of you hang from the chandeliers in my mind,

there where a crystal teardrop hardened into something that came loose,

shattering on the unforgiving floor of the basement of your awareness.

It was my fault that I butchered my feet dancing barefoot in the shards,

not caring about the bloody mess I left there when I followed the music

all the way into a new rhythm with strange instruments and foreign melodies.

We thought we knew what harmony sounded like,

there in the dark without the benefit of surroundsound or even stereo.

Did we get what we paid for this time, or was it yet another dine and dash

before the entree was served? The cocktails were deliciously intoxicating,

the appetizers whetted my hunger, that insatiable beast who prowls the dark alleys and dangerous backroom speakeasies of your heart

on nights when you give your guard some time off and the fortress breathes, begging to be conquered from inside.