October Witches

We cackled like
mad matching witches,
drunken off of the sweet
insanity of our October wine
as it frothed from behind our throats
in gurgling shrill foam waves,

You always berated me when men
dare tread nearby,
I always chalked it up to
the Borderline in you,

Figured it was the scent
of your own mental infection
permeating through the
thick, mineralised osseous
tissue of your own skull

floating high to your olfactory
senses - the stench of your
brain's decay as it rotted in your
head - making you ill inside,

So it came as no surprise when
you challenged my femininity as you
were prone to do - & I suppose you
figured that since you were more
blonde & thin & tan than I - that
it was your God-given right, somehow,

But I do not think you expected me
to delicately place my wine glass - half full
on the table - collect my things & then walk
out of your life - slamming the door so hard
that the glass shattered in front of you,

I heard through the grapevine that you
became quite vicious after that,
but really - you always were...