kickinglovers

Wearing protection of an armour type for moments that never follow.
The subtle combustion of faith in promise,
given like gifts on a morning of snow.
Dispatching of desperation to leave,
me with:
nothing,
but this
...
and empty silence.

A seeded glow of unreadable remark.
Granted within a bud of life,
growing to fool the audience with promise.
A darkened seat within the house, unwarm,
cold like my bed, like yours.
To stare.
There is a crying from the seat.
The ass left too soon.

From this I give you chance,
A turn of the hat, a jokers laugh.
To give, to have, need chance of fate like cards face down upon a table.
Straight face, and never nothing to lose.
Anyone can win.


I went about closure the wrong way before. I found it standing at the bottom of the bottle green path holding a white flag. (my speakers are singing "I know I'm not the only one who loves you like I do" ________...). It was just a case of misread identity, a light held in the wrong direction.. I thank you for your time. The story is over until someone rugby tackles my stage.


King Pot Noodles just don't taste the same. Smaller glasses are better. Not thin china cups.