Wednesday, 20 January 2016


The salt on your lip
The sweat in your brow
The hands you slit
The hate in your marrow

The way you undo you dress
The way you say you're a mess
The avalanche in your empty belly
The heroes and queens on your telly

Tell you you're the scene 
You can be the rage 
Burn the stage 
Be the gates to everything 
Cold and warm
But July stings and April won't sing
You're just a silent storm

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