December 1st

Against the long odds in the evening
A daydreamt nightmare anchors in my eyes
And it’s an aura drenched in crimson
And a hateful blessing in disguise.
Then the snakebite ruby smoke fades
To blue walls of institutional peace.
A year the lesson takes to soak the mind
And burrow in a hippocampal crease.
There, the red wine stained upholstery waits
Your ice blue eyes’ soap cleanser
Till one day only purple makes it through
My autobiographical censor.

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About irishstag2013

I'm an amateur writer, just doing this for fun. "Trying to find the magic. Trying to write a classic. Waste bin full of paper" -Natasha Bedingfield
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