You're my scarlet lovely,
My apple on the tree.
I'm your chartreuse ugly,
Common bourgeoisie.
You were harvested at your prime,
Yet there were wormholes (out of sight).
I was bred in filth and slime,
Born standing and upright.
We met in June and fell in May.
Both tarnished, lonely - thrown away.
Two dying moths to a dying flame;
Vacant, hopeless - without shame.
"You're my one and only",
My meaningless cliché.
I'm the locked door and key
Keeping your past at bay.
My apple on the tree.
I'm your chartreuse ugly,
Common bourgeoisie.
You were harvested at your prime,
Yet there were wormholes (out of sight).
I was bred in filth and slime,
Born standing and upright.
We met in June and fell in May.
Both tarnished, lonely - thrown away.
Two dying moths to a dying flame;
Vacant, hopeless - without shame.
"You're my one and only",
My meaningless cliché.
I'm the locked door and key
Keeping your past at bay.
Image - http://www.flickr.com/photos/alisonedunn/2189164888/
I love this!
ReplyDeleteThanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it. =]
ReplyDelete