markbousfield

And there I was,
raking your nails over my warm skin
dreaming of a colour I would never see.
I let slip a choice cut of affection,
as though some impish madness
had come and possessed me.

I waned from my precocious youth.
My most carnal and ferocious work,
my fire and rock of moss-bitten bitterness,
my lust,
he betrayed me.
He exposed a want of a soul that is not even mine,
Yet,
...you are long long gone.

The levies of my heart filtered through the dams of my loneliness,
swirling waters of slothlike tenderness,
both slow and wet as we come together,
these are the memories I have of you,
ghoulishly you raise when you think I say your name,
even in a whisper of regret,
almost as though my words could kill.