After party

Not really sure wtf this is but its something I suppose.

He waits, each day repeated forever hoping

All pressed cotton and fathers aftershave

Crimson wrists match carnation’s hue

And wet cheeks like blood red roses blush

At mere thought yet thought alone can wrench

And heart in chest does twist and writhe

then shrivel scorned and turn to dark

until madness claims him for her own

And with malady and melody sweeps away to cold dark soil

And love young dream fades slowly to black until daybreak once more

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Michael

Husband, dad,(ex)programmer, comic collector and proud Yorkshireman. I have no idea why im here or why im writing but i rather enjoy it. no great fan of punctuation;

6 thoughts on “After party”

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