For each flavour there will be
one for you and
one for me,
feel the flavour of the sun as
it trickles slowly down your tum,
does it feel quite real,or dreamy,
soft or hard or sweet and creamy?
I never tasted midnight like I tasted it last night,
sharp like a pin
sticking,picking at my skin,
don't like that flavour overmuch,
it touches in the awkward places where
memories and faces join as one and
leave that acrid taste upon the tongue.
And as I lay me down to rest,
I see and understand, that the flavour of the
morning is the best.
I say goodnight with the flavour
of what might have been,
(which tastes of Cornish clotted cream)
on my lips.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
For each flavour there will be
one for you and
one for me,
feel the flavour of the sun as
it trickles slowly down your tum,
does it feel quite real,or dreamy,
soft or hard or sweet and creamy?
I never tasted midnight like I tasted it last night,
sharp like a pin
sticking,picking at my skin,
don't like that flavour overmuch,
it touches in the awkward places where
memories and faces join as one and
leave that acrid taste upon the tongue.
And as I lay me down to rest,
I see and understand, that the flavour of the
morning is the best.
I say goodnight with the flavour
of what might have been,
(which tastes of Cornish clotted cream)
on my lips.
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