Tuesday, 30 August 2011

Spatter-lit, like diamonds that spilled out from
A miser’s purse, all the reflected light
Plays upon the grey seat, harsh and gently.
Strange how it’s the unconventional that
Hangs beautiful, like smoke that twists and curves
In the breezes from west and east within
Our memories (oh, things were wondrous once).
There was a time, when-back-then-long-ago
(it’s a time now thick with honey and
Hate in my head) that you were fragrant smoke,
Balsam-cigarette, bitter-hacking smoke
In my mind; a taste so delicately
Disgusting, like a refrain that rings wrong.
This love was untrue - it made me cough tears.

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