He made her feel special,
Magic dripped from his fingers.
Dripped more from his tongue.
She made him feel,
Feel again, scared to break a record of being loved again.
No more.
Instead of word of mouth.
For her from land down south.
He fired blank responses from his very wary pen.
The record made of vinyl, was moulded in bright yellow,
As canary stood, did strut his stuff, sadly never mellow.
He swore as stood in front of her,
He'd never love again.
And he did.
Stupid sod.
He loved her too, he told her so, the demi-god.
He ran faster, much faster than the pouring rain,
His love he washed it down the drain.
Blew more wildly than the wind,
She was his malediction, the thing called love it bit again, made him feel, buckets worse.
Such  soul slaying addiction!
(C) Livvi