It’s sometimes messy, they say,
When leather’s wrapped round desperate arms
And chemicals can course through veins,
When lovers drop to scraped up knees
And wish on stars that they had never met,
We take a thoughtful step away
Knowing that it’s far too late
To wind that clock back to day dot,
Undoing work of addicts’ hands.
crispina kemp
That’s good. And perceptive.