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.

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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