Haris Feb 11
Somewhere, baby, it started to cede
Growing on that folly morass
Would you believe?

Had our backs turned to our love
That was left sleep talking
Sprawled out on the middle
Of that lukewarm bed
Oh, can’t take that silent shivering
So, tell me, where’s the reefing that we kept?

Said, ‘We'll be best friends forever.’
So why are we not together?
It's a voyage from the doldrums, I guess

You're gonna call it now, baby
Christ, I've seen it
In those gauzy eyes
I've got his phone safe in my palm
With shared memories
I could never understand

I can't furl it no more, oh no
When it's brought me to my knees
For it's 26 knots of gusto
And that vessel's heeling at the seams

Our love's flanked on that deck
Of missed aces
But I'll not fold it, oh no
'Cause it's still hocked inside of me
Of all the things we decreed
And, I swear, it won't go undealt
'Cause there's bound to be another pair
Of hands at our helm
Haris Feb 11
Alas, the kaleidoscope Blackbird caws
She’s wanting her nest back
So I’ll cherish a straw piece
In the hope I can salvage a piece of her
This is benevolence, my pal
This is bequeath of mixed feline

The Hunter bows and charges to the beat of her flutter
For he knows what I know
A crispy realisation that has led me to this
Damn! That Apollo and his yellow-stricken bow

Now she is fettered, she is fluttering
Her heart is in sixpiece
But don’t despair for Orion’s here
He guides you, he waits for you

She flies up into the farthest corners
But then realises
It’s all here within
Haris Feb 11
Stumbling in at half past seven-ish
A few moments lost for that fleeting date-ish
No Havana 7 but double ginger severance
She’s got a toppling agenda, a full Hacienda Luisita
Oh, in her mind
In her Copiapo mine

Nurse these beguiling blue eyes
Nurse these blindsided thoughts
For I thought we were still in knots?
Who’d have thought we were not?

She was unshackled in The Rum Shack
Months before that
Gnawing at her whilst she was gnawing at it
Sharing a familiar piece of (sweet) potato sponge with The Conquistador
Both throwing it up again and again and again
Until the gnawing bored

For we were specks to one another
For we were sitting not next to one another
I’m on the edge of my seat here
Are you not?
Quick! Before the varnished pining rots

Exchanging sentiments of worn out threads
But no slinky boots?
Only a longing look
Returning to the tender hook
She looked at me and said, 'It's getting late.'

Greet, adiós, greet, adiós
She wiped away my loss
For I was left unshackled outside The Rum Shack
Backtracking her back

— The End —