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deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Tang
New places have no memories to hang
From tawny crags or icy waterfalls
That chill so well, they lose the bitter tang
That waits around to spoil those dusky halls,
Where the faint whiff of recollection creeps:
The putrid aftermath of those past beaus,
On whom the door was slammed. Late night still reeks
Of their forgotten fuck juice and vile blows,
Once reaped upon my shoulders; 'til I learned
To be discreet; and, now, those sensual songs,
They whistle in the distance, aren't discerned:
Faded, fruitless foibles. No one longs,
For repetition or an aftertaste:
Once those dark shadows have all been replaced.
From tawny crags or icy waterfalls
That chill so well, they lose the bitter tang
That waits around to spoil those dusky halls,
Where the faint whiff of recollection creeps:
The putrid aftermath of those past beaus,
On whom the door was slammed. Late night still reeks
Of their forgotten fuck juice and vile blows,
Once reaped upon my shoulders; 'til I learned
To be discreet; and, now, those sensual songs,
They whistle in the distance, aren't discerned:
Faded, fruitless foibles. No one longs,
For repetition or an aftertaste:
Once those dark shadows have all been replaced.
Published 9th Jul 2018
| Edited 17th Sep 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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10th Jul 2018 2:43am
10th Jul 2018 8:32am
