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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