Sometimes I believe
That love and lust exist -
coexist - in plains that intertwine and swap saliva
Like starlings sharing a sky,
and revel in a polar magnetism that splits the star crossed.
At others I believe
That the stereo tape of the original,
Conquers. Defines like some plaster wall in the suburbs, each flake of white paint memorised in nonchalant precision.
Sometimes I fear
That my edge is blunt and my skin falls away at the touch,
an oily tangerine butterfly that spans the sky ever so fragile,
sodden in the fine dead cells that saturate my
useless heart.
YOU ARE READING
Happy-Sad Poetry
PoetryA collection of poems written by me over several years, many of which contain deep dark worries and fears. It isn't light stuff, but please lose yourself in my words and come out the other side a different person.
