A wife is having an affair. The husband finds out and kills the third wheel. They seperate |
Blades cut silver spoon into stilted moon jingles For earth sea platoon to evaporate the triangular rectangles And so as she wept without regret not met before we slept I was with more, one crippled cracked mirror than a little wet Creeping up my legs, sweeping sins off the tentacled tabletop Before the moon rises and the cutting finally sends us off We thought back to yearly intercepts forcing decades to digest Finding the fatal flaw foreshadowing a fractured philanthropist He would once digress multitudes merely moaning for that moon mirror Pinpointing the triumvirate teetering on tangled webs, I was too shy to kill her Seeing myself was last on my mangled mind, mirroring the tragic mirage once heralded Yet pour, for she had seen no more of the yellow striped tiger claw crouching beneath her head Poems ripped from past passages reflecting in the mirror once held by the moon Torn apart the very vacuum of love, lust and a line of blood poured from the spoon Silver licked lavender and burgundy until all I could see was the chattering She moaned in a cry justly derived and so we hide before the sirens ring And so the silent sailor sings silently as he cannot speak He aims to please patiently the parts of him he cannot see Builds blinding embers the bridge he sails underneath And so he softly glides the smokey aroma island breeze Fortunately forsaken, she flies for finer facades for fear of finding love again While sham it is, violently it beats the eggshell sofa she sorta felt comfort in Four double doona beds breathe doubt throughout her beady eyelid dreams Falling slowly and beautifully, she will never rise, yet her lonely carcass screams The end of woe, forgotten, no, yet darkly lit, behind it sits, avoiding arduous annals The tale was told but not for gold, public speeches always turned their rivers to canals Divided their fall, lonesome their parting, darting to dodge dodgy journalistic farting Forever free, glee, withheld, though perhaps it was the perfect way to begin their laughing |