Part 21
A poet who hides in a book is a pussy.
Before I landed I feared her scent. I prayed I'd fall in love with someone new before I sunk back in her arms.
The smog on the streets, the lines on the road, the trees and their swing all smelled of her.
I kept my distance because addictions are best kept on the other side of the world.
I had become the master pretender. As long as there was an ocean between us I was safe.
Far from home yet my heart lived in her castle.
Carolina needed me near, if only to rake my heart.
Never being a one woman man I slept nights with her and afternoons became revenge sex.
Enough with these blank brush strokes.
Carolina poisoned my heart. I would be hers or the sun would set on romance, sex would eclipse my life.
Voyeur you that devour the veins that I scribe, enjoy my pain. Read on and I will bleed on.
To be continued.
