Femme fatale sentir bleu

Oleander and ethanol

clung to her lips

like the faded bruise

from a lovers touch

skulls bloom dead crocus

with shadows of babies breath

in the iris of her eyes

in Bourrée

on the edge

where 

passion

meets

pain

she finds 

little comfort

when 

all

she

was

looking

for

was

love

from my book Sid & Mary (Opal ) a journey into the wasteland 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

not a great combination is it? love and pain don't really go hand in hand, more like hand and back of the hand...to be loved and then abused...that is not real love...but some just feel responsible...and take blame to mean...that person must stay...so sad...reminds me of one of the reasons i never liked Charles Bukowski...an abusive drunk with too much of a literary following. Really good piece that gives the reader a slap to think about.
j.

[terry smith]

this poem is part of a story from my book, all the poems tell a story when put all together