Mismatched Standards Poem by Matt Pocock

Mismatched Standards



Hello, my dear Charmaine
This candle that I hold in the
Darkness of your serenity
Cannot be waxed or waned
By the eruption the hell's
Most thunderous wrath.
And my every thought flies out
Like the tendrils of a scented plant
And every leaf that blooms
From your Chanel number five perfume
Is effervescently sparking my soul.
xx tb xx

Kev.
Stop buggin me.
My bf is in the marines.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Erin Duphily 07 February 2008

heh heh heh..... I like it. I love it. It's great.

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Matt Pocock

Matt Pocock

Wiltshire, England
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