The dangers of strangers

How blithely she writes
What remains to be seen
Transposing the unknowns
Onto aquamarine scenes
In trances (of stolen glances)
Pinned wrists and stifled moans
How idly she inscribes
Her coronary catacombs
How plainly she arranges
These strangers into prose
Branding the stanzas
In aching narrations
How madly she fans
The flames of creation
Like wet dreams
With daisy chains
From the haze
Of a memory
That she’s only been told
Each line is a eulogy
Each maze is a home

So who was he
If nothing more
Than a loan

a. duncan, 2021

• Song by Poppy Ackroyd

Posted by

Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus || Love is rich with both honey and venom

One thought on “The dangers of strangers

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