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Chamber: Part III

March 18, 2013

thirtysix

They say that these things come in threes.
What a bitter fucking irony.
I love her and she loves him and he loves me.
I left puzzle pieces on her dresser.
A puzzled look upon her face.
She left her perfume on my collar.
The smell of salt and lace.

But I feel the stirrings of a summer breeze.
And the nights are growing short.
I’m growing back my backbone.
No more nights alone.
I’ve learnt the things I need to know.
And seen more things than I’ve been shown.
No more grinding my teeth in dreams.
Finding things there best left beneath.
I’ve risen from that waking sleep.
Scorched the earth where sick fruit grew.
Let no stone be left unturned.
Until every inch of earth is burned.
Time to miss somebody new.
Kiss somebody and think of you.

Cut away the swathes of leaden night.
The way you’d want me to.
As a child I loved the dusk.
And as a man I loved first light.

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From → Poetry

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