alas my wainwright so beautifically torrible

by

similitudes of a black cap snatched off
simulacra of a leather armlet with prongs
mementoes of freckled dimples going with your smile
remembrances of blond hair burning through souls

did i cry when you disappeared

i need the rain as you need the pain
want everything in grey as you long for colours
while we touch the moon and fall through clouds
into your dying reflection on the blue drink

i cry now that she is you are here

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