Love-sick

Degrees of sanity border love

they strangle it in loops

of life so tangled

that capacity is strained

on pain of death

and we sink or paddle

in gorgeous panic.

 

I have painted my soul

that colour back then

when my ears were deaf

to warnings – I pawned

my conscious mind

lost the ticket, pricked

my fingers bloody

and survived.

 

Drops of this/these loves

sit, awaiting a pen

like a glass slipper

to fit and so make an end

a tale to tell, a drink

to stir and colour

our dreams.

The End

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