Cutt and Pastels

Another draft, for your enjoyment...


Cutt and Pastels

 
Shifting through blues,
Sniffing at the cocaine
Resting on your shoulders
After another mile trawl
Through traffic.
 
More tassels than talent
A the knock-me-down
Cabaret, swilling glasses
Like tomorrow was
Just another Sunday,
 
Clearing up was a matter
Of four walls, echoes, soapy
Water and scratching
At the black scuffs
On the chair legs.
 
Hands in pockets and a cigarette
Between the lips couldn't
Keep my fingers straight,
and though the walk home
Was only five minutes
 
It felt like five miles.
 
Those lost stones dribbled
In the moon light, butting up
Against each other as if they
Were holding on to something
They'd already forgotten.
 
I left myself there, drifting
Into that space under the trees;
Touching the earth and listening
To the cobbles clack-clacking
Under my heavy soul's.
 
The house was empty,
The sheets were damp,
The lights wouldn't work
And so I sat there in the dark
Thinking about you.
 
The red in the sink clashed
With the white of the bathtub,
And you'd pulled back
The curtains like you were
Some rich tapestry in
 
A gallery.
 
 

1950'sdeathhaydenlifelovemenpastewomen

◄ Gnomes

Bedtime ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (8043)

Tue 26th Jul 2011 10:09

Yes, I agree with you on this one - I seem to love it and hate it at the same time.

I felt very angry after I had written it.

It needs some work, like the others!

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winston plowes

Sun 24th Jul 2011 22:27

couldnt get the same sense of theme with this one but loved some of the images

The red in the sink clashed
With the white of the bathtub,
And you'd pulled back
The curtains like you were
Some rich tapestry in

was my fave section. Win

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