Sour Grapes

01 Jan Sour Grapes

In a wine glass

Clean slate, 
like an empty plate.
I’ve had my fill of mind games
and what’s-his-names.
I’ll drink my sour grapes 
in a wine glass
with a half-assed smile 
until I’m nice and numb 
to the core.

When I’m ready for more,
I’ll get out my little black book 
I’ve kept for years.
Take a trip down memory lane. 
I’ll pick the name
with the most smeared 
pen stains

We’ll have a real good time. 
Share a few bad lies
and fake smiles.
He’ll call me in a week,
three AM
on a Saturday night.
And, if the mood strikes, 
I just might take his call.

He can be my new downfall. 
He’ll pick me up in his truck. 
We’ll go back to his place,
play a little kissy-face. 
Maybe even fuck.
But there’s no time 
for pillow talk.
We’ll both be too drunk.

I’ll sneak out
before the sun comes up.
My heart’s too dark
to let any light inside.
I don’t need to say goodbye. 
I won’t pretend I care,
even if I do.

If he calls again,
we’ll be through. 
But I know 
this one won’t call.
And after a month 
I’ll fall 
completely in love
with his lack of desire.

So, I’ll drink my sour grapes 
in a wine glass
with a half-assed smile 
until I’m nice and numb 
to the core.

Until I’m ready for more.

<2011

Included in my self-published e-book, Moths & Moonlight (2011).