.
A warm wet circle on my cheek,
all that remains of your presence.
In a cold grey room so empty,
that no longer holds your essence.
My skin and bones have turned to dust,
a heart dripping to pools so dry.
The fibres of being are unbound,
as you walk away and say goodbye.

© Pagan Paul (23/07/17)

The man who loved blue
Was a joyful soul
With eyes of diamond
And heart of gold.
His voice was breeze
In summer's air
With songs to sing
And stories to share.
His house of blue
Was easy to find,
So bright you could see it
Even if you were blind.
And all would come round
For a blue cup of tea
With biscuits that came
In blue packets of three.
They'd hear his advice,
For he had lots to give,
And all the adventures
Through which he had lived.
He laughed of his youth,
The days climbing trees
That he spent with his siblings
At age of thirteen.
Since then his face wrinkled,
His hair had turned grey,
But his life-loving soul
Didn't age a day.
And when the time came
That his house lost hue,
We never forgot
The man who loved blue.

I THE BLACK

You can have my whole heart and devour it
but not squeeze out a drop of blood.

You will drown in a thirst
as you try to water me.

II THE WHITE

I am not meant to fall in love
I am meant to divide my soul

Among the satans of the world
And turn fire into cosmos.

(I am lost
But I will find my way.)