This malcontented day creeps slowly by a slow shuffle of feet dragging over rubbled concrete greys becoming greys of a different shade – all a mix of white and black the view from my window creaks under the damp weight of the afternoon a sheen of sweat lingers in the air, tense and earthy and you still cross my mind, running between the shadows and misty longing revenge always puts a bitter taste under my tongue and bends me backwards in ecstasy but what could be better than a slow burning and having no choice but to burn with you…

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Poetry