a poem a day for a year #232

by Amy Turn Sharp


the wicked way
the slivered path
to meeting yourself in the middle of your life
where Love Street and Hate Street intersect
and there is a tavern on the corner called Death & Sex
where we all belly up and look at each other
with wide eyes
with wounds
and wild stories
we just swing our arms around each other and sway
we sing predictable songs
and whisper old dreams to each other 
all careful and solemn
like they are brittle glass
small buttons
tiny tears
like they would break
if we would dare shout them out