She’s mine now and don’t forget it.
Your cruel words and hands
have darkened her eyes, now swirling
with why, resting on my breast.
Leave her alone, stupid man, for she gave
without hesitation for your sly use.
But I’m different, hardened
to your type, and can cause you pain.
I’ll care for her as she truly needs,
comfort her. For she sees you for
who you are, untrustworthy
and vain, love notching your belt.
My red lips will kiss the wounds,
as her auburn hair rests on my green turban.
4 comments:
Hi Jim.
This is so mysterious.
d.
Loiseau~
Hello there you!
This first line, in my opinion, is weak as a starting place. I'd also play with line breaks here and there.
Your closing lines feel over modified to me, particularly the choice of modifiers - some basic colors, they don't seem to add anything to me.
I do enjoy the image of the turban though, it seems to me that these days, to wear a turban is to be villified, and to make the turbaned one the hero/protector here has a very interesting effect.
~Erin M
This sounds so familiar.
Hi Jim
Good to see you around again!
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