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Alabaster

 

If I never lie with you

I will never lie to you,

to the casual observer I appear to look through you;

I wear bad luck as baggage

and drink as a badge

I curse every move of that bastard called time

that put beauty in his path

and duty

in mine.

 

No alabaster

comes close to your skin,

no imperfection can wrench anything

from the butterfly beauty and gossamer flesh

and each bald paradox that we can't understand,

like;

I have your picture

and he has your hand

 

From born Whythy kid to grown femme fatale,

from shy petit mort to suffering grande mal;

the shower of freckles

the funerals of hope,

the scent of the summer deep on your breath

the shape of your two hands

moulding your little death.

Song for an unborn child (I never) ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (9186)

Fri 27th May 2011 01:07

Really enjoyed the poem it was a pleasure to read

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Elaine Booth

Sun 22nd May 2011 19:16

Ohh, fantastic, John. The final line: "moulding your little death" is extremely powerful. I really like your work as the darkness feels real not melodramtic.

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kealan coady

Wed 18th May 2011 18:14

Brilliant, absolutely captivating, i always love reading ur stuff, its fresh and original. excellent stuff as always.

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Isobel

Wed 18th May 2011 16:10

Very moving John. I'm not normally a fan of 'love lost' poetry but you express yourself so well. I guess sometimes love found is never really lost. x

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Andy N

Wed 18th May 2011 08:06

beauitful stuff, love it john, no quite sure where you have placed the like by itself on the 2nd stanza however, but still really enjoyed it.. good to see you blogging again..

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