while I was out

 

you were out,

i wasn't in.

an ill wind blowing
makes me
sick

haut cuisine and
revenge, dishes
both best
served
cold

snakes have no
arms

but are armed
with fangs

matches burn
out

creativity burns
out

love burns
out

and we are left with the
cold boney arms of
memory to hold us
on a freezing
winter's
night