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Reservoirthe smell of neoprene, hung up to mould
brings back to me unsalted tears of the lake
that it forced to my eyes, made my mascara run
the rain and the lake-spray
pushed up by our bows, as we leapt from the shore
singing an old sailing song of the sea
sang the boat and the ropes
clutching hard were your hands
coloured pink with the cold on the sheeting and lines
your skin teased by the rain and the warmth-stealing wind
we landed that boat on the rocks together
my sails and your rudder
(your hands and my soul)
the holes would not patch, not with hours of superglue
we both blame each other
and, silent, head home.
They were rightThey were right when they said
that your words dazzled,
sank into the eyes, and,
in my mind, made sense.
But that doesnt explain
why this isnt wonder
but a longing
to steal your words like
to own them.
I repeat your phrases;
images that belong to you
poison my words.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More