Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Poem for Saturday

How long does a fuck remain your property.

Two days,

possibly.

I love the face of a fuck moved on.

That rosey red awkwardness.

That slight betrayal in the gut

even if it was only a fuck.

Making excuses,

places to go.

That pastey white body already better

coz it doesn`t belong to you no more.

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