Her spider eyelashes intensely exude,
an irresistible charm though sinister-
when they flutter, desire in waves spread,
it's gleam, he the hypnotised moth seeks,
dashing straight in to her invisible web of deceit,
seeking an instant nirvana, only to dissolve  in darkness.

There was a flower in your garden,
She was so beautiful and delicate,
Moving graciously in the wind,
But you walked forcibly over her,
Because she was not appealing enough,
For you,
She is a wilted flower.

I remember the smell,
Like old wood and
     Lake water
Somehow found itself
     Mixed into some sea
           Of sheets,

And I remember
Waking up,
     Entangled and drowning
In an ocean of
Unfamiliar bedspreads
As you climbed into
      The morning soaked
Bed with me.

Your skin soft
     And vanilla
          And brushing lightly
Against the hairs on my arm
     That you made stand up tall,
Kissing me awake
     As I pushed your auburn
         Strands of fire
         Hair whispering in a
         Tickle against my ear.

The way your hand
     Rested with possession on my chest
           And tapped some forgotten tune
As we waited
For afternoon to
     Beckon us downstairs,

The steady hum of
The shore catching
The waves of the
      Lake shimmering green
      In the summer heat
           At the wooden base
                Of our cabin outside.

And I remember
     Our collective shut of eyes,
Resting our foreheads together
     As our hands journeyed
          To reach one another's
          Beneath the home in the sheets
We wished to never leave.


That was two years
     And a love and a half ago,

So now I long
     For nothing more
Than these summer mornings
To wake up not so lonesome
                                                  anymore.

Fine, you win, you're right.
I’ve been hiding remainder feelings
Under my white duvet cover.
Can't believe that it used to be ours.

Kept on telling myself witless lies,
Such as "I've run out of washing liquid".
Kept on smelling what’s left of us in it,
Waiting for one final clearance.