(Are we a nation of Procrastinators?)

Rotten fruit, the last kiss

Water trough aged and brown

Fresh dung, disconnected wifi

A move to home, at last.


Disappointment, tasting sour

Love beads around my neck

dissolving into my skin;

no trace, new microchip, blue.


New model car yellow

Lamborghini Stripes

A Red pelt around your shoulders,

A blue weal on your tongue,

You talk and I listen at

where it all went wrong

You tell me I am weak but that

I also belong.


Black tarmac rolls out behind us

as we journey on into the night.

Destination in mind with the other

in sight, in sight, in sight.


Yellow wool looks good on you

I tell you as you sit near to me.

I watch your hair move and your pale skin

pink lips and green eyes like saucers.

and wonder what else to say.


Then you are on me like a rash

Our tongues perspire in our saliva

and our bodies collide in murmurs

gently at first then as if gripped

by a judicial decree to procreate freely.


The day subsides into dusk and night

and I feel safe near you, my heavenly light

the bearer of burdens many that you fling

like flowers under your Golden wing.


Every little thing you do is magic

and though my life was always tragic

We nuzzle like lovers

caring deeply and feeling.


Night times and all we want is each other

and the days seem so far away

We cling to each other and the warmth

soothes both body and mind together.


In a sort of fairytale way I will

never forget the day I first set

eyes on you. And your eyes clasped

on mine. It is a lasting impression

burned forever on my mind.


Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

Join our competition!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: