Sunday, 13 March 2016

Saturnine.


Leaning back on that chair by the window tonight,
Sitting hand in hand with misery and fright.
The skies set ablaze with just the thought of you,
The night seems darker than I ever knew.

And there you wave, at me a hey,
While I try to push all the pain away.
That glee on your face, too wide I see,
Dead a bit inside to know the reason's not me.

I bet she's great that girl you found,
Prettier than the prettiest, how foolish I sound.
And she better acknowledge how lucky she is,
To have had the man who's more than a bliss.

He who blushes scarlet, at just the thought of you,
How he says the sweetest things, all staring at his shoe.
And how his hair falls back so fine, not a thing out of place.
And how he mocks at shit, Ah! That face.

And let their be light, I hope she makes you shine.
And oh, don't you bother. I'd soon be fine.

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