15 December, 2010 at 15:47 (Uncategorized)

Jealousy’s cold and has green blank eyes,
they have that look of death
which you favoured me with

I discovered that a little grey ash
poured from my mouth…

…there’s no asking you to come and play
you wouldn’t understand
read your books then
in the quiet room
and lock the window
lest we come in

laughter in the sunlight
the scent of summer grass

there are ashes in my mouth
they drag me back
to that quiet room, filled with books,
I can see you looking through the window
eyes in the darkness then

she puts a finger to her lips
and promises secrecy

the words from the room and my own
do not mesh
they crash off each other in the air

…theres no asking you to come and play
you wouldn’t understand.

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