The World's Favourite Literary Website
Its not because you love me, its because I love you,
That I miss you so much the sky drizzles wet
And the room turns down dark, as I sip my tea
And give myself a guarantee never to forget.
Images slip by, awesome, like shooting stars.
But a man with a plan, plans to take a still shot,
And he holds and kisses everything and nothing.
Memories, everything and nothing, is all he's got.
I quite often wonder the wander of an ant.
Purpose granted by a power from above.
Photographs in the melting pot, as am I,
Mixed race, holding no disgrace, but full of love.
Totally distraught, he held the needle to his neck
And glimpsed his soul as he injected.
So bad. So sad. He wrote for the living and for life.
I hope my end was not unexpected.
Despair, when I found him lying there
His life, so full of splendour, but that's alright
As you see freedom dance within my eyes
Watching him sailing tartan skies.
Deep within his alabaster skin, love glows.
Rising through shydom to false heights.
Withdrawing to private lows.
In the company of false Kings and Knights
Stretching his soul for private love,
Wishing for whispering, satin, secret nights.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work