The Mist

I have got to feeling the steam inside, so take heed
Of the fiery waters that rise from the heat
I refused until now to admit my defeat
My own breath in my chest, down while still rising
The mist and the vapours of the midnight aura disguising
That vacant look that took no prisoners in her eyes
And that calculated acting was such a good disguise
Then I saw another, another lover, he won me over
No longer did feel disgusting, dirty, touched by shame
In the end, he is knowing, he is to blame
I will not finish without him, I must be fully satisfied
Better than the one who left me, who left me and cried
I have barely shed a tear, now the old romance has died.

 

Posted in Poetry

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