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Strange, How Strange
Strange, how strange, how your translucent skin reflects the fire in your soul;
The pattering pattering tremble of your heart, beating in my ears as rain
Batters a park;
Strange, how strange, how your coal black eyes bore into my green gaze;
The most perfect contrast that clears the violent haze in my daydreams.
Strange, how strange how your small pink lips tunnel open;
And you swallow me up, engulf me in your furious tongue
And it curls around my throat, squeezes tight, constricts the breaths in my throat;
Sends the very air floating from my white teeth,
And releases me, up, up, up, until I am sliding into the hard mud.
Strange, how strange how you condemn me, now,
When you were lost in my lovely sin;
When your mouth had stained mine with dark strawberry
And cool blue ice,
And you had caressed my skin so it shivered soft as a cloud.
Strange, how strange how your muscles smash down;
Splattering my sound buds like a ruined cake;
The painted on roses dripping cruelly to the floor,
And your red, shiny shoes twisting sharply as you shut the door.
Strange, how strange how the technicolour world can dry out
Until there is only grey,
There is only grey out there in the dark mist;
Only darkness and a hollow burn where your hand had lain
As it had stroked mine, and kissed away the pain.
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A dark poem visualising the contrast of the sweet romance that bursts like fruit juice on your tongue, to its bitter and tragic end.