the stress of horror

take
me with you
when you go
take my hand
and lead me out
the door
i don't want
to be
alone
not today
not ever
not
anymore
than i want to be a shapeless sight
in the thrill
of the topless night
alone in the throws
and galloping woes
of the brightest star
in a garden with keats
attired
in old-fashioned
clothes
never made the man
take
me
with
you
when you go
i'll be good
i promise
not to annoy
you
anymore than
i normally
do
take me out
breathe me
in
you look deadly
in the green room's
candle lit glow
under unassuming tones
and table manner banter
and heavy-pour drinks
we drank
just us
at a table of three
gone was the stress of horror