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#1 |
native system
Join Date: Mar 2013
Posts: 387
Battle Record: 18-21
Champed - Short-Verse Topical
Rep Power: 4453411 ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
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London, 2011
It began subtle and harmless. A deconstructed catharsis Separated to hundreds of parts by your lovely touch And some hungry consumption of every London drug in the darkness In the corner of clubs - I'd watch you on the heavenly dais Adored by a bevy of strangers tangling for your flesh. I was waiting to be next. In the matrix of lights that was Fabric. It was the night of the addicts Devoured synthetics with wild abandon - your smile decanted Every coward's attempt at guile, they'd clamor at your arrival And at your departure your disciples began crowding the exits This City was An epoch old. The culture was rooted. Past concurrent with future. And you claimed your lover was sutured With a blush that was muted - we'd spark a spliff in the Mews I could see your heart burning, considered a split into two I looked different to you - as November passed And we returned home - and things would pretend to last Years Between We would reminisce constantly. The memory haunting me I saw a shimmer in your eye whenever you talked to me. You missed London so much. The city became you. While I felt the same, you were always Venice to me Beautiful waterways that stretched in the streets Persephone’s sexual fete. That lusty, erotic veneer As you danced with a man who would be gone in a year And I’d always be here – gazing into the water Looking at the flesh of dead men.. decaying and rotting Yes. It would always be here, my celebration of wanting So why not take the leap? It's only gravity darling Though there’s faults that are forming - youre slipping through And I think it isn't true. I guess I'm too conditioned to You're masterful taunting. A virus that I need in my life Please. Keep it to yourself and leave me to die. Boston Harbor, 2014. We were touring the boat. I remember. You said nothing worthy of note. Or, it was all blurred out by the vodka shots poured towards our throats Occasionally hitting their mark, waiting for something missing to spark In the core of your soul. The sea breeze tussled your hair as you posed next to me Something in the air suggested we were two destined souls so I later checked out the photo but nothing was there. |
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