Miserable Youth

At times,
I forget about the languid charm
In your inbred breath
When we would entangle
And talk about how we might
Glorify the certain mundane
Of our futures.

Your hopeless dreams,
While romantic,
Were a silky wine
Drugging me into believing
What I might accomplish,
And I helped to spin
What we knew where looming lies
While we coddled in jersey
Or satin sheets.

We were roustabouts,
Stinking of bad sex,
But with scrap-iron stomachs
And a masochistic flare
For dangling unpromised boons
Upon ourselves and knowing,
Just knowing,
How the cosmos would bend
To our steely provocations.

We sealed ever prayer
In sweat drenched kisses
And posted every corner
With the riches
Of our miserable youth.