A brief and mildly poetic exploration into my unsuccessful relationship with love
You awoke me in Winter's playground,
Four wind-chapped cheeks brewing with embarrassment,
And twenty fraying fingernail beds.
He kissed me under mistletoe
And I cried to my Mummy
When he couldn't find you like you found me.
It wasn't long before you fooled me again.
I thought I caught you, hiding in the pupils of the Devil,
Beneath the honey sheets of Sam's cotton trap,
Who wasn't so sweet in the daylight,
And beneath Saint Valentine's February sun,
Hiding in Jordan's words,
And at the bottom of a bottle,
Left on a beach for the world to see.
I was searching with my eyes closed,
Falling into the arms of George.
Into your arms.
And at night we were more than naked,
We were transparent.
I could feel each rib again mine,
And see right into the core of his chest.
A pulsating brass mirror.
And you're still here, Love,
Knotting my exhausted veins,
Invading my every thought,
Outstaying your welcome.