"satins" poems
I am too close for him to dream about me.
I'm not flying over him, not fleeing him
under the roots of trees. I am too close.
Not with my voice sings the fish in the net.
Not from my finger rolls the ring.
I am too close. A large house is on fire
without my calling for help. Too close
for a bell dangling from my hair to chime.
Too close for me to enter as a guest
before whom the walls part.
Never again will I die so readily,
so far beyond the flesh, so inadvertently
as once in his dream. I am too close,
too close—I hear the hiss
and see the glittering husk of that word,
as I lie immobilized in his embrace. He sleeps,
more available at this moment
to the ticket lady of a one-lion traveling circus
seen but once in his life
than to me lying beside him.
Now a valley grows for her in him, ochre-leaved,
closed off by a snowy mountain
in the azure air. I am too close
to fall out of the sky for him. My scream
might only awaken him. Poor me,
limited to my own form,
but I was a birch tree, I was a lizard,
I emerged from satins and sundials
my skins shimmering in different colors. I possessed
the grace to disappear from astonished eyes,
and that is the rich man's riches. I am too close,
too close for him to dream about me.
I slip my arm out from under his sleeping head.
It's numb, full of imaginary pins and needles.
And on the head of each, ready to be counted,
dance the fallen angels.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
There’s a scurrying sound of something, burrowing,
Down in the depths of the dungeons, hurrying,
Skittering, pittering-pattering, scattering
When there’s a footstep, hear them chattering:
‘Here come the lords, and here comes the vassal,
Tripping their way through Cockroach Castle.’
Here come the ladies, all in their finery
Tripping and sipping the wine from the winery,
Trailing their silks, their satins and bustling,
Up in the ballroom, while the rustling
Army beneath the sounds of their razzle
Is down in the depths of Cockroach Castle.
Spilling their millions up in the glooming
Out from the flagstones, terror is looming,
Up on the awnings, hung from the ceiling
Under the swish of the skirts they’re stealing,
Dropping in hair, and burrowing faster,
Cockroach Castle is set for disaster.
Suddenly all of the room is screaming
Flapping of hands, the roaches are teeming,
Myriad hordes in the Carbonara,
Candles are tipped from the candelabra,
Choking smoke from the candles guttered,
Flames leap up from the ones that stuttered.
Clothing and flags and the awnings razing
Silks and satins flare up, and blazing,
Roaches in eyes and ears, they’re rasping
Clogging their throats, to leave them gasping,
There isn’t a lady or lord, or vassal
To come out alive from Cockroach Castle!
David Lewis Paget
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
i love Satins *****
she means a lot to a bard
i hope shes a switch
but life can be hard
a satanist has class
and has a lot a will
and i love your sweet ***
and i work in Satan's mill
I know about archetypes
there my best friends
ive seen all there lights
and ive lived in their dens
thank god for the devil
hes been a hella good friend
i love you to hurt me
on that you may depend
a blade up my ***
ill shimmy and shake
and give you no sass
hope you want what you take
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
There is just enough morning sunlight
filtering through the english laurel
for aging eyes to capture the purple tint
of carnations blooming
in the front of the rocks
jutting toward the porch
Night-time had been colorless
in the midst of a celebration
announced by a sign signaling
an event in the main ballroom
With a loud voice
a long-named minister
toyed with religion
and flirted with comedy
before the silverware
clanged against the china
Boredom captured the moment
in the middle of the clatter and chatter
Even stunning silks and satins
around bodacious behinds
failed to entertain
Now perhaps the oldest in the crowd
he carefully quenches each desire
to know the delicacies of the evening
with the efforts of survival. He was slowly
dying in the madness of the crowd
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satins and jewels grand
Are all at my command.
And I am happy now.
And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my ***** swell—
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.
But he spoke to reassure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o’er me,
And to the churchyard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
Thinking him dead D’Elormie,
“Oh, I am happy now!”
And thus the words were spoken,
And thus the plighted vow,
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Behold the golden keys
That proves me happy now!
Would to God I could awaken
For I dream I know not how,
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,—
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.
2k
There, in the light of a summer, long gone, lie shadows of laughter, remnants of love.
There in the dust rings, echos of recall, sunspots flaunt blue yonder above .
Recalling eyes that wept for the fun of it, cried with the tragedy,. Teardrops of crave
Surges of memory washing in wavelets cleansing, scarring, riding the wave.
Oh for that feeling of splendid simplicity running in sand at the surge of the tide
No place to be, no timetable proffered, freedom on little boys giant slippery slide.
Ice creams, apricots, luscious and juicy frolic with maiden’s free blonde, tousled hair,
Frothy short petticoats bounce in the sunshine, youth without traces of worry or care.
Breathless in nights of gathereing twilight, breathless falls this magical air,
Wondrous in such lilting beauty, soft hanging tones of Autumn fair.
There in the light of summer gone, shadows of laughter, remnants of love,
Memories flood to overflowing, indigo glints the starlight above.
M.
The Satins of Autumn Approacheth…
February 21 2019
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
Can you smell the scent of passion?
Mine - my pheromones sprinkling tonight
Baptizing you with my ardour and lust.
Let my voice guide you sweetly to your end
Whisper to you the delicious promises
Whiteness and warmth comfort me for tomorrow.
Can you feel the slightest touch?
My feather-like kisses blow your mind
Engulfing you in satins, laces and ribbons!
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
I'm hanging out
our ***** laundry
tonight.
Sticks and stones
and broken bones.
Words actually do stain
as my whites mix with colors
and flow through the air,
pegged down to the last insult.
The best stain remover could be love.
But we've got a really
tough collection,
here tonight.
Despite the hot water wash, those
hard-to-get spots are
still there.
And my brain and heart are
being tumble-dried
the heat, the harsh words
washing out my pride.
My outs are in, my ins outside.
The world's a-tumble
As we wear the cloth down
to the last few threads.
As usual, we forgot
a good dose of softener
to make mellow
the words as they jump
from our tongues
and enter our heads.
I would save my heart
if I could save yours, too
But it's just all spinning too fast,
What on earth
Shall we do?
We'll just have to hang it up as it is.
Let the world see
that there is no perfection
Let those dulled brights
be a kind of reflection.
Perhaps next wash will be better.
We'll know by then
what to use.
Perhaps love will take over,
rekindle the blown-out fuse.
Right now I'm just gonna
curl up in this
basket. Wait for the
stormy cycles to end.
One thing's for sure.
We must clean up our act
Lest the cottons unravel
We must sew up each tear
Before our hearts start to travel
We must take care of the frayed silks and satins
the polyester
before they are beyond any repair.
Tend to those stains,
Straighten each snare.
Take my love
In a many-hued heap
Smelling of sweet soap
Warming your cheek.
A leap of faith
A dash of desire
Let's wash out the pain
Rub away all ire.
Let's have a laundry party,
Tonight.
Naked on the clean bright sheets.
Let the kisses remove
the harshest of stains
Let caresses replace the words
of pain.
The only softener we'll use
Is the creaminess of tongues.
Let the world see
Our love, tonight.
Flowing on the line
for all to perceive.
Darling, we must give just to give
And then we'll
receive.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
Lazer strike me in euphoria
You love me from the first
As my pressure dropped
Unfit recollection pump
It's as if I lost my place
The very earth I stand on
Out of touch and out of line
Alien make me crazy
As you do when I slumber
As I lie, you ****** my own
My breath fades and I co-exist
On the remote control I respond
Through these veins I shall live
Out of touch and out of line
In the shell of hell and fire
Whom can believe this my alien?
You tainted me from proper love
The thoughts that trap and own me
more than these words on a script
Objected to your subjective film
Out of touch and out of line
Blurred unpleasant satins encase
My feet fail to ground on this life
Your volcano erupts me in trips
Grant me time to think twice
As I remember when you forced
that very filth indifferent to mine
Out of touch and out of line
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
Spite contorted smiles
And lips
Drenched in green
Sought the satins that never
Satisfy – Sheets, fallen,
Wings, blistered,
And holes burnt through the
Bottoms of shoes.
So I pace myself parallel
The corner of one left
Eye, peripheral and
Gazing to the
Two-step-stumble
I now partake;
An answer to
Her dance with
Impending desire.
Me, being the reluctant,
Me, being the timid, the torrent
And soon to blow over.
I know I’ll leave,
She didn’t,
And more importantly,
I know she’d find home,
Discovered, empty
With little more than
Lint in pocket, abandoned,
Just one lonely shiver
And looking for warm.
So if my cold hadn’t taken over
Not quite yet,
I’d give her a
Blanket,
It’s the best I can do,
It’s all I can do,
But at least it’s
Something I can do.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
Marijuanna is great makes it good,
eats your brain tords the end insane.
you dont grow even though you know.
Its hard to spit and, Its hard to quit.
gets you hungry,
eat, puff, chew,
lets get high and off we flew.
I can do this i Dont care,
I'll be different want to stare?
lets be bold,
when were cold,
we'll just light up
bought and sold,
who has my back,
who the **** needs the crack?.
I lack my money thats ***** funny,
bought a sack sold yur sisters bunny,
ahhh now I'm out ,
Meth I'll give you a try,
snort, smoke, shoot,
never toot ya the boot...
your hand just took me oh hard so shook me,
so Im hear depended my gear,
I need that lift,
ya satins gift,
rock and roll,
I'm a beaty troll,
your things i stole,
lost out control
You'd have my back?
I really need you,
I left them all,
family friends put up a wall,
I am bound now all around I just ask no more a hit.
Hey you there you got the "$hit"
Hey its true tell me about it!
Jesse Mckush
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
One night.
One night
Of magic, love, laughter.
One night
To drop your weights
And just dance, baby, dance.
One night
To see everyone you’ve known for years
As princesses and princes in their finest satins.
Jewels glisten and the smell of small flowers
Wafts through the air, mingling with the sweat of the dance floor.
Petals flutter from corsages, but no one seems to care,
They just dance, forget every fear
One night,
I had the best night of my life
I laughed and I danced
I kissed my love, and he kissed me
Under the light of a half-grown moon
Stars peeked through the fleeing storm clouds and smiled
And my love and I, we didn’t care who was watching
As we slow danced to a high-speed song;
We were singing our own song,
Just outside the party
And I felt the love
(with just a hint of lust)
Flowing between us,
And in that moment, in his arms,
I was home.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
When do I start this love affair
When do I find someone to care
To hold me tight
In the stillness of night
I hope it might
Be soon.
I’d be over the moon
Will I know it when I see it
Will I feel it, will I be it.
Will I fall at the first hurdle
Will she wear a playtex girdle
Or whalebone and wire a sixteen inch waist.
I do know that I will want to taste
Her breath
Her hair
Her legs
And then the question begs
What’s for dinner
Please forgive me I’m just a sinner.
But I could make her feel like a queen
Do things that she has never seen.
Write love songs about her poetic face
Dress her up in satins and lace
Take her back to my place.
And just in case, I forget
Tell her I love her.
I would make her laugh
Have her in fits, take her out for tea at the Ritz
Teach her to dance and do the twist
Go out on Sundays and play some whist.
And Lord forbid that she should cry
Then I would dry with my lips her tears
Allay her fears
Nibble her ears
When do I start this love affair
When do I find someone to care.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
Marijuanna is great makes it good,
eats your brain tords the end insane.
you dont grow even though you know.
Its hard to spit and, Its hard to quit.
gets you hungry,
eat, puff, chew,
lets get high and off we flew.
I can do this i Dont care,
I'll be different want to stare?
lets be bold,
when were cold,
we'll just light up
bought and sold,
who has my back,
who the **** needs the crack?.
I lack my money thats ***** funny,
bought a sack sold yur sisters bunny,
ahhh now I'm out ,
Meth I'll give you a try,
snort, smoke, shoot,
never toot ya the boot...
your hand just took me oh hard so shook me,
so Im hear depended my gear,
I need that lift,
ya satins gift,
rock and roll,
I'm a beaty troll,
your things i stole,
lost out control
You'd have my back?
I really need you,
I left them all,
family friends put up a wall,
I am bound now all around I just ask no more a hit.
Hey you there you got the "$hit"
Hey its true tell me about it!
Jesse Mckush
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Dubious: charge
The deluxe program in. Obtuse angled and oblong animals. Mecca sexúal, discoverer pulling back the curtain tails in mimicry and peacockiness as the horizon shimmers itself out. Do not eschew unwieldy ostentation towards benign mid-weight colors in the sequel to Blahnik.
Offers in the hesitant, peak winds of Southern-Hemispherical Antarctic weather barometer losses. The ice is like a hive of nameless blue lily pad vessels, each a different magical shade of the water's blue.
She like the uncommon baroque grandeur in an hour of time, herself-
Summons the immense symmetry of her elaborate lavender macramès sheath and entomb her skin, exploding across her body like milk-white daffodils draped upon a morning bow. Linseed and anise encompasses burnt sweet grass on the breadth of pine in a gentle pillow, anchored only by the veins of her red fruit nectar stitched at the grooves in her cool and unpunctuated lips. While anxiety numbing tufts of gentle satins wisp all the worry and turmoil away, pleasing every nerve, sensor, instinct, and exercise of glib humanity intertwined amid the pulse of our uncensored adultness. She glides amid the arcs of ebullient-molecules ribboned in winter synonyms, summoned up in her sensual and illustrious sublime, and the story of how like a horizon muted by organzas falling beneath her into that relationship she carries with her water God into something profound, immense, and totally ******* exquisite, yet beyond all imagining, she is always doing what has been the coolest **** ever to me. That becomes more magnificently indescribable like our amorous fire, incentivizing the luminous beauty of new stars to rush above us, and yet under us too, amidst the simple and perfected automany she so awesomely imbues.
Until the minutes are silenced in our heads and the days are warm with you.
For Sarah
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
Molecular tales, these wiles of mine;
amygdala soaked in weeks of wine
will only function half the time.
And fears, in-fight-or-flight response
are jaded flickers only, now
arousal first, aggression next
you cannot choose the ones betwixt
your memories peeling, still unfixed.
Life's luxuries cannot soothe that sting
And soon your troubled nerves won't fire
Silks and satins won't mean anything
And countless women not suffice
The contrast between cloth and skin
will blur to numbed-out Braille and ice
But you sir; still insist on this-
To drown yourself in every vice.
You may go out in fire yet
If one day all becomes too much
I wonder if you've passed that gate
The one marked 'Point of No Return'
And if you saw it, smiled and waved
or felt a pang of hostility
or sadness,
pure futility......
I cannot save you, no-one can;
I'll not be your last gluttony
And thus I submit my defeat-
The impotence of this soliloquy.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
I see a tribal emnity
between the boules club and ornithpologiists,
laying siege to the bus station
as if they were on satins
old enough to know better
but still besotted with the twig of youth
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Yet, I admit, feel a tad uninspired.
So I gently wave my hand towards
two handmaids. Essha, a musician
uses her nimble fingers to play the
Harp with other, Semui who plays
the flute, together creating a true
aurelian tune.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
There is so much ahead that my eyes
can see. Rings of still, clear waters
around the green hills of near and
far. Guards patrolling the high walls
of my borders, Knights riding horses
into my people's town. How it warms
me to see them all smiling and laughing,
going about their daily business.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
A brethren of sweet lilies in the
vase shyly bob their heads, pouting
their rosy lips which I gently stroke.
Violets coiled around the bare feet of
the caryatids, and pots of bluebells
and dahlias by my own slippered
feet.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My star-kissed diadem, though
resting on my curls, is caressed by
the light as I turn my face towards
the horizon. Deer dance in the shade
of pure green, leaping over the silver
streams, that murmur tales and
secrets they hold within.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And by the docks of my Aurelinaea,
are many argosies with wooden
bellies and creamy sails with many
imports; of silks and velvets, satins
and eiderdown; apricots and apples,
plums and peaches, honeys, jams,
syrups and jellies from fruits and
flowers to heaps of sugars and spices,
make-up, jewels, flower-bulbs and
perfumes.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And my personal favourites - a great
assemblage of teas; herbal and cream,
drinks and oils as well as an assortment
of old tomes, Analects and books. I have
a dream that mine own library would
rival the fabled one of the once great
Alexandria.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
What a loom of withered silver
As it spoons its satins lairs
As the tears weeps lonely tears
Drops of love gone down the glare ...
The heartless door to no return
Screaming at the cursed door
as you walked one last time
Telling me you're never come home ...
The withered silver lies on the floor
Holding my heart one last time
Tulips blooms seems to taunt me
Love dies... as I cry the death of tears.....
What luring pride of caustic nature
The kiss came like a whiplash like no other
That tore my throat in yellow sunlight
That carried him away one last time ...
As the grieving process began
As I lay among the field
In the withered silver snow
You never came back again....
By: Debbie Brooks 2014
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
and so it flowed along the floor,
newly waxed and cleaned and polished,
just for the occasion.
it had layers upon layers of beauty
and she felt exquisite
The Prince looked upon her
in all her jewels and silks and satins
and felt nothing for her.
and so he turned his eyes away.
and looked upon his servant boy for comfort...
which he found without delay in the servant's face.
in his eyes...
and his lips...
curling up in just the slightest way,
almost undetectable.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 7:39 PM UTC
The nails I’d grown
To cultivate
Dug deep & hard
In pallid flesh
I pulled my skin
Across my chest
And felt my ribs
That grasped for breath.
And as I lay
The more I thought
What tastes disturb
Upon my tongue
As teeth bit hard
On anxious flesh
And death recoiled
At what I’d come.
As nerves crept through
My empty veins
I challenged sense
Of earthly realms
Those cries I hear
On silent winds
That sing of death
And thrive in dreams.
Was I the one
That took first bite
Upon your stained
& soiled sheets
And satins touch
Is Satans lust
That spurred us on
In savage feast.
Inside I feel
The acids joy
That courts my soul
And marries minds
As logic flirts
And lures my will
In dance that speaks
Of tales unkind.
To walk in death
With memories lost
As shadows flit
We move in time
And nails that press
And rip my skin
Are needles through
My ravaged arm.
Now gone are days
And gone is slumber
As nights draw in
And waken me
To taste your flesh
Is my desire
And purge myself
Of dignity.
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 10:08 AM UTC
O MY LOVE, WHERE THOU ART?
In my heart lies a beautiful land
A so wonderful Eden wealthy with fortunes
A Disney of desired treasures and pleasures
Yet inviolate, undiscovered and unexplored
In my soul sleeps in wait a cozy of comforts
A bed of flowery roses and fluffy linens
An exquisite suite of cottons, chiffons and satins
A ****** bed, uninhabited and unoccupied
My face and space is an endless world of amorous fondness
My eyes are a teary glassy pane, a gate pass to a waiting soul
A waiting soul to sincerely donate and devote:
A waiting heart to loyally obligate and dedicate
My arms and palms stretches with plenty of passion and compassion
My embraces are cradles of craves for a soul to cuddle in obsession
My chest is a laid lavish cushion, a destiny of love and affection
Waiting for an immaculate one to implore and explore this fortune
Deep in groves of my thoughts
In the labyrinths of my minds
Hidden is a grail rich of feelings and love
An overflow of emotions waiting for one to touch and attach
A flood of ardour for one to truly adore and worship
O my love, where thou art?
Are you in the skirts of winds and airs to catch my breaths
Are you in the suns and summers to feel my worming warmths?
Are you in the stars and moons to glimpse on my lonely stance?
Are you in the hills and deserts to watch my naked noon’s dunes dance?
Are you in the silences and quietness to listen to the dirge of my sorrowing calms?
O my love……………………where art thou?
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
Grandmother had told me tales of the past,
Fairytales that we’ve all heard of,
The maidens in the scullery maid attire,
transforming to the princesses with the
embroidered and jeweled gowns; rivulets of silks and satins,
blue as the sea, greener than the highlands, more purple
then the dusky skylines, a true stamp
of royalty, poise, eloquence, and beauty.
And ensembles topped off with gold
encrusted and amethyst crowns.
Sure, the fairytales were what I lingered
onto during the years of my inexplicitly
innocent childhood, that I wished I still had.
I missed it, the tales, the anecdotes
that shaped my perception on love, hope, and faith,
far off from what I viewed in the looking mirror today.
I missed my grandmother’s hands, brittle and worn,
but kind and warm; I still thought about them
as I cleaned out the attic in which I’d forgotten existed.
And I grew up, my memories of it faded,
now covered in cobwebs and bristling wind
that sent a chill up my spine, but I found
much more than what my memory had allowed me to collect.
Amulets from what I assumed to be my grandmother’s youth
were stowed and tucked away in the alcove of a velvet shelf,
hidden by the splintered of decaying wood.
Next to the swell of the dresser, the door of the
furnishing remained ajar, revealing manila
colored increments of letters, some harbored
by the envelopes, some pierced out in the open.
The edges had crippled away,
flecks falling to the sandalwood bottom.
They were timeless, old, maybe not important,
to the wandering eyes of a stranger.
But to me - they held a mystery
that was waiting to be unraveled.
A story of my grandmother’s life she never shared with me,
just as private as she was open, perhaps I’d find in those envelopes
the same mindset I also had when I was young.
Perhaps she believed and dreamt of fairytales I had once done,
paraded around in the jewels and bangles hidden way,
basked in the ambiance of a sweet love
that was doomed to end in the decay of both parties.
Little figurines of silver and gold were placed under one
of the drawers parked away in the furnishing,
toys form her childhood, weighted by standard and price.
Her words I had adored as a child,
ate them up like sickly syrup and supported
them as if they were undiscovered treasure, but
now I finally got to “see” my grandmother’s
treasures deposited in her attic, the very place she
had hidden the most interesting stories that she
left for me to discover after she left.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
Life in solitude, emptiness surrounds
Silent mist rising in the serene woods
The birds seldom sing their songs
Satins, sapphire, and soul
The stream slithers in slender streaks
Squeezing past senile saplings
Squirming into the smooth sky,
Set clouds slink upon the heavens
Brush speechless under solemn gaze
Tranquility seduces scruffs of leaves
From past autumn, someday stalling
Another year, or another two
And life keeps skidding, sliding
Around the slow line of time
No stopping, no pause
Sanctified continuum.
May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 6:02 AM UTC
Dead, burnt alive.
Your face crushed by brute metal force,
Smashed, black eyes look like they’re crying,
Innards vomited out on impact- corpses,
****** through your shattered forehead,
Turned to pulp by the asphalts grisly smile.
A curb has never been so twisted.
Teeth and bones show that these were once people,
Instead of just the red tape left behind.
Now you’re stopped by the feeble yellow kind,
Sunshine yellow that scars a grey sky-
Teeth and bones last longer
And teeth and bones are stronger
But not as strong as a boy,
Going faster than control.
All he needed was one hand too far,
And Satins red and black sprayed their clothes,
Igniting more than petrol when it explodes,
Killing you- his life, his love, his car.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC