The muse and I drink to the past and what will become
Paint me a photograph
With a kiss
The bullet explodes in my head
And I drink away the night
Puff away another cigarette
Perched on the eve of this destruction
Or this bar
As she sells razorblades
From the corner of her mind
While the shadow of the posies
Casts a shadow on her grave
All the while laughing at the killing joke
Life sweetens this revenge
Some semblance of doubt
Allows me to remonstrate
With the memory of her voice
Clearly chattering in my head
Selfless summers
Move what once was a heart
Simmering in the colour of blood
And she lies
Beneath the ground
Tangled in the roots
Smile never to be found
I drink again
Smoke another cigarette
Raise this glass in toast
Knowing
In time we will meet again
5 comments:
Your muse has been active Aidz--I always get such a great set of visuals off your work--loved this--
@AudreyHowitt
A tight sharp circle through some bitter images and emotions--many fine lines.
As she sells razorblades
From the corner of her mind... your metaphors are sharp like razorblades as well mr. oz..and your muse seems to be quite of an extravagant sort..
damn...hard images but spun so well...i like...she sells razorblades
From the corner of her mind
ouch...nice grit....
Love the bit of grit you added into your verse the razorblade line was great.
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