i.
he is paint upon her peel
and for hours
they have hung with pride
but inside of him
is purple,
whilst she's pale
and wearing thin.
ii.
she's scared
to shrug her shoulders
incase the ceiling
caves in on his lilac lies
whilst his greed
feeds thousands of mites
that bite muse
as moth
and bone.
iii.
she is his alone and never hers
yet she's aware
that he cracks
as she continues to lose
and her confusion clings
as imaginary mask,
to the task of out-wit
and pursue.
iv.
he blames brushes
for betrayals
and strokes for his sins,
whilst he wins
ailing affections
that shouldn't be his
yet he covers her hunger,
her heart
and her whims
with layers of love
that force her
to give in.
v.
she's reluctant to relate
the fate
of her frowns
and to jot-down those details
on walls wiped with woe...
for he's fall to her fix
and a mixture of feel,
while she's fool
to his touches, that seal her
secure.
vi.
so static, they sit
to spit acts of their play,
of a time when this scene
was a stage
and a dream
and while she hums
of her hurts,
consumed by clutch
of his kiss
he smiles wishes
through windows,
to warm
other lips.
Gold trophy winner
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