And words, burning my mouth.
We came upon the death of an unknown,
Paid our respects and sheltered.
We felt akin to the stable stone.
Look at us! Unshakeable as a church,
We can shelter the dead,
Come everyone, we’ve got love -
Enough for all.
Afternoon will find us entwined on the bank,
not daring to kiss.
Daring not to kiss?
It tastes of ale and rain.
You don’t.
You taste of won love.
Of stolen love.
(Every time I spend a while re-reading my archive I realise how thoroughly jarring it is when some pseudo-serious poetry worms its way in there - it's a lot more unpleasant to read)
You don’t.
You taste of won love.
Of stolen love.
(Every time I spend a while re-reading my archive I realise how thoroughly jarring it is when some pseudo-serious poetry worms its way in there - it's a lot more unpleasant to read)
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