Come to me, here, from Furness Vale
To this idle county, where
a dozen stations stand in
wait to loan the City her suits
and collect them, weary, at the day’s end.
Descend the chasm that splits
England’s pleasant pastures
and concrete miles; a balancing
or cancelling act that renders neutral –
but each Spring I watch from my window
the azaleas that blossom in my
neighbours’ garden, the petals peeling,
revealing, coming undone by the swelling heat.
Be here, Scarlett, let me watch
our shadows spread across my wall
as the shifting sky paints the room,
like burning embers.
And, sun sinking, let us go to bed.
You looked much prettier with long hair.
Don’t - give me that, show me a smile
it’s better to be natural oh!
look your arms are so hairy, hairier than mine.
Not rowdy or older than myself but definitely
confident and intelligent and maybe even
‘quirky’ as long as she’s thin
and kind. Because I don’t like fat girls
how to find your dream woma
where to find dream woman online free
I think I’m still in love with Grace but
she ignores and blanks and shuns me even
after I shared so much yet
she doesn’t even seem to care
I’m verrru drunk
I see u
the little green dot next to your name haha
night then iguess
I think I just hate women and that
stupid insipid conceited *****
couldn’t tell a good guy if
he cuffed her clean
across the cheekbone
and spat in both her eyes
I wrote this after having to listen to and try to sympathise with a boy who seems to think women owe him the world. It reminded me of the hate and rage within the 'incel' community and the very real danger this poses to women at the receiving end.
beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet
for the artist will
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind
sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme
write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say
beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display
— The End —