Thursday 14 July 2011

Ill

I’ll never forget
that neon night we met
You were too good for me
at first
But not later.
We could have done anything
If only we’d co-operated.
Time passed
Love rotted
You threatened I’d be 40 and alone
Instead you’re 30, in a mental home
What were you thinking
When you took - a knife…?
or scissors
to your dick?
I’m sorry you’re so sick
I’m sorry
for a lot.
But not for everything.



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