Thursday, 14 July 2011

Ill

I’ll never forget
that neon night we met
You were too good for me
at first
But not later.
We could done anything
If only we’d co-operated.
Time passed
Love rotted
You threatened I’d be 40 and alone
Instead you’re 30, in a mental home
What were you thinking
When you took - a knife…?
or scissors
to your dick?
I’m sorry you’re so sick
I’m sorry
for a lot.
But not for everything.



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