Tib street was awash with Hurley burly
men and street lads
The barra' boys shouting out
as the rain came down
Sheets of it, thick, wet and slimy
on the slick-backed streets
And she waits on the corner
near Affleck's Palace
where all the in-crowd shop
the out-crowd shop there too
for their tattoos and piercing parties
Guinevere, in her thick mascaraed laced-up eyes
Glory day, she smiles
she lingers, noticing every pity party
that passes her by
I smudge my lipstick in a smile
towards her languid form
She reels me in with hidden agendas
that cause my mind to split
as the tears fall
I am listless, disinterest wells up inside
sodden face to the floor
the rain hides them so well
from the men and street lads
But not her
her with slipstream smile
devil may come eyes
black night nuances
that I want to find
I fiddle with my dress
she looks me up
down
Down to the ground
I sink
knowing she's seen right inside
a gaping wound
holed out, hollow
so hollow
She spits through it
and it fills with the splendour
of it all
For in my weakness
I am awash in the rains of her
disdain is my corsage
I wear it
for her
That is Guinevere
Adding your comment:
Why is that, I wonder? ... one always hurting the other 
j/k hehehe
I am embarrased now.. thankyou Monte for such wonderful words..
7 old applause
