By Nick Engebregtsen
Our love held a decades old passion,
Within a weekend of unity.
The hotel room was lined with lights,
Twinkling to their own accord.
We ran, as did our demons.
From our families,
Their complacency with addiction,
Their tongues will remain vindictive.
We danced, as did our demons.
Her fetish for self-destruction,
And my agreements with the insects
That burrow beneath my skin.
Crippled by our anxieties,
But freed by our euphoria,
We held each other upright.
She wore a yellow sundress,
It was grey, I recall.
Barefoot, walking on mine,
Her dress wrapped around me,
Brushing the backs of my knees,
Grabbing my breath with her stare.
Rolling on her touch,
Feeding her frenzy.
I slept, I believed she had too.
What was once our new home had created a new identity,
No longer room 1717,
It’s now known as the room from which she jumped.
Nick Engebregtsen attends Marian University in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, majoring in English Education. Although born and raised in a town with a population hovering around 5,000, he finds comfort in the anonymity of the city. He plans to become an English professor and continue to produce poems indefinitely.