McDowell

Standard

He isn’t perfection,
My fallen angel,
He isn’t redemption,
Taken from the cradle.

We met by chance,
The moment undescribable,
Its not a love but false romance,
Eyes locked, hearts racing,
Words palpable.

He isn’t my idea of heaven,
My sanctuary or my dream,
But my life is what he lengthens,
Whilst he exists my blood will stream.

From Scottish ancestry,
Comes a god, a male, a king,
He descends to try and save me,
His blue eyes watering.

His story is just as sad as mine,
And we realise he is what I need,
But it’s only for a sweet time,
That I am his and he is mine.

Its toxic and true,
Brown and blue,
A fleeting moment,
Kiss, cut and bruise,
My soul mate,
He’s left me here to muse.

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