Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

When His Eyes Turn Turquoise


When his eyes turn turquoise
Then back to bloodshot white
He isn't any prince or any kind
Of knight I want to fight.

There isn't any scarf…
I'll give away to him or you
He's open my eyes…
Well beyond any thumbscrew.

I'd rather be locked in
A tower picking locks
And wearing…
That moth ate curtain for frocks.

When his eyes turn turquoise
Then back to bloodshot white
I'll tell you I've been traumatized
And that isn't at all right.

When I look in his drunken eyes
I don't want to stay castled up
Pretending he can still be my dove
And I can be captive loved up.

Oh I'd rather be lashed
And dethroned than share
In his turquoise eyes smashed
Bloodshot; turning back white.

Submitted: Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Edited: Thursday, June 12, 2014

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