Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
Her loneliness she'd placed
In a darkened—basement
Her eyes had grown quite tired of.
Tired of—the cellar its grates
She wanted his blood spatters
Of love to stop, dripping,
And pour down the cellar walls…
Like a scarlet stream of moonlight.
She wanted a new seeping dawn
A velvet casket of stars—
She needed his suns warmth,
Leaching, suckling, vampirism:
'Needed the sunlight's faucet fixed.
So her emotionalism's tap' could runneth over …
And fill the night with 'daylight love'.
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Comments about this poem (Daylight Love by Mark Heathcote )
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