Baby those aren't tattoos,
Those are the track marks of a diseased candy,
That causes the infected,
To fall pray to obsession.
He was so gorgeously broken,
And I know his secret.
The phobia he dares camouflage,
With a simple alcohol addiction.
I know how the stars burn for him,
After another stinging injection.
Sober thoughts fade,
Into the beautiful photographs of a flashback.
Flashbacks of the time before,
The needles danced along his skin.
Leaving their scars,
As a bitter reminder of yesterday's work.
While summer's turquoise skies set in,
His wasted body lay bruised,
Decorated with the syringes of his mistress.
That year October never came.
Author notes
used Candy by Luke Davies as inspiration
ap name: corrupt angel
A contest entry
- Remember me in my opaqueness. by whiterabbit..
525 points, ended March 29, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I really like this. I enjoyed the metaphor used with the addiction being his mistress.
Bravo!
-
Baby those aren't tattoos,
Those are the track marks of a diseased candy,
♥
you came out extremely powerful & never let up
Dead Star--x -
I love this!!! Nice work with the wordbank words, didn't sound awkward or forced at all. Loved the way you let this tale play out, and the last stanza is absolutely perfect. Very well done, and good luck in the contest...
~QoA
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