a blue boy

He was made of cigarette smoke and lust

with his feet in a pair of scuffed up boots

and his head in the rainclouds

 

His words sounded deep blue

when he whispered to me

under that mist-soaked street lamp

 

he tasted of coffee and sin

when we kissed

my blood was fizzing

under his fingertips

 

berry-juice bruises draped

across my skin like a necklace

drawing the curtains

slowly closed

 

painting my world

indigo

 

 

 


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