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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Monday, 11 August 2014

A souvenir

Today I didn't lay my bed,
so the bed and I now metaphors for incomplete...

I seat by its side,
reminiscing last night's ride...

Your scent still lingers in my sheets,
a sweet faint perfume like an aroma of food you can't eat

I'd wash it away; ayeh, I hopelessly want you to stay.
I'll just let it be instead, and it'll fade away...

Oohh these earthly things,
that we do in earthly ways,
that are only earthly great.

We drove through the night,
I parked when things left right.

You raised the wrong alarm,
my tires burst from your harm

Who calls false alarm,
and says they didn't mean to harm?

It was great while it lasted,
before you got busted!

Oohh these earthly things,
that we do in earthly ways,
that only cause earthly hate

Your red lingerie still lingers in my bed,
it'd be like rose petals if we weren't at loggerheads,

ayeh its beauty faded when I realised you got jaded,
now I'm going to burn it hoping to get rebated.

You we're sexy once but you lost your flame,
I just wish you didn't say his name.

I'm disgruntled, I guess it's my turn
to hoard that which doesn't fade or burn

yet I have to heal my self from memories of you,
that sparkle through my mind like light in dew

I could burn things, some could fade.
still it remains, this awful dread,

Lingering in my heart,  a thing I don't revere
an unwanted love for keeps; a souvenir

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