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eva-mae Aug 17
and I would call you my Heathcliff,
but I am no Catherine.

You were a complex character
before I made my impact,
I cannot claim to have caused your
wounds, nor to have healed your heart,
But for the time we had,
I hope I brought you some small,
( however small)
amount of joy, or at least
rest,
from the wicked souls who tormented you
That now reside in a shadow behind your smile.

And yes, in a way I suppose I have the qualities of Catherine,
I too broke my own heart,
but at least you could recognise
that you too, played your part.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAsCxo0N3FI&feature=youtu.be

Like Pink Panther putting on normal panther camouflage,
or a Goth record with a lipstick autograph;
a crow and a flamingo mingling at a birdbath;
or Bret ‘The Hitman’ Hart’s leotard:

pink ‘n’ black is my heart
since we did part, since we did part.
Pink! Coz it feels so raw.
Black! Rotten to the core.
Love is a doubled-edged sword
on which my heart, heart's been gored.

Like a baby born on the bonnet of a hearse,
or anachronistic candyfloss on the teeth of Liz the 1st;
an unturned chipolata, top raw, bottom burnt,
or your girlish mirth when I am at my worst:

pink ‘n’ black is my heart
since we did part, since we did part.
Pink! Coz it feels so raw.
Black! Rotten to the core.
Love is a doubled-edged sword
on which my heart,  heart's been gored.

Like the lungs of a nico-tween puffing past a pack-year;
the highlight in Heathcliff’s hair when Cathy drove him queer;
coconut rolls from liquorice allsorts, but not the black ’n’ yeller.
Or my broken heart so terminally tender.

The two tones of good old-fashioned rock ’n’ roll,
sang Johnny Teardrop on his Les Paul,
or was it a Fender ?
And is blue the true interior of a heart tore asunder?

— The End —