The Last Time

Ecstasy is a terrible drug, euphoric and amazing, if you have ever taken it. Long before I grew out of the moshpit drug induced metalhead stage I staged a few dicey drug fuelled nights. One of them a friend who had taken too much died...this stopped me for good.

The last time I held you it was summer,
Cinnamon flavoured air swept foolishly through the spinney,
We had laid down to love, forever singing in our ears.
Rapt in serendipitous myriads of momentous cheers,
So silent in our love, so young in this summer.

The last time we danced it was evening,
Through lights of passion, so stretched in awe, red, blue and gold.
We had joined ourselves to ecstasy, and rushed and buzzed,
The slicing bite of whiskey, and ice cooling like it does,
So raucous in our meaning, So young in this evening.

The last time I heard you, you were fitting.
Convulsing in celebration of our unity in lust and devotion.
So experimental in contortion, a grimace stoic on your face,
The rush had ended, panic thrust knives and a scythe in its place,
And I couldn't touch you, whilst you were fitting.

The last time you spoke, I was breaking.
My enjoyment in you and lust in life, handed you a weapon.
I felt not the numbness of loss, guilt or pain,
Just a sickness and repentant trapped barrage of blame.
So young in my ideals, thus there I was breaking.

The last time I saw you, you were peaceful.
No tears I could cry could put recognition on your face.
No sorry, or pleading, pride swallowing guilt,
Could let me be in the spinney, the pair of us built.
But that's how I remember you, you were peaceful.

The End

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