Treasure Island

Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

When The Veil Slips and Falls…


I’ll take her promises for what they really are
A cheap gift bartered for from a street bazar
Whose culpabilities are always to tell lies?
Lies as truths look straight through my eyes…
With a milestone, million more empty replies.

Secrets stay within me now closely withheld
They’ll never be unguarded or freely compelled
A clandestine force once ready to be truly free
A page of my heart I readied to dine À la carte
Is torn its entire length where my love imparts.

But more fool her and her vending word machine
Assurances, words used season soiled latrine.

Submitted: Friday, January 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 11, 2014

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