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October 8, 2016


We drank hot tea.
And stuck ourselves with pins.
To chill the sweating room.
The forge of unsaid things.

You bemoaned the cruelty.
As rain gurgled in the gutter.
Of tyranny in the tea leaves.
And slavery in the sugar.

I wondered why you felt the need.
To please an absent God.
To reap the wheat but curse the seed.
In a garden he long forgot.

There were parts of you I found that day.
Whilst you brushed your ruby hair.
That were hard as bone and soft as clay.
But in me, were never there.

The cat is a lie.
But the smile is true.
Measured to inch but cut by the yard.
What did I ever care for you?
You were nothing but a pack of cards.


From → Poetry

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