Tuesday, 26 November 2024

Dorothy by Adam Parry

She plays upon the dark in me

and walks so alone.

She doesn't tell me what she dreams 

of these I'll never know.

She runs her fingers through my hair

as if I were not there.

She'll love me for an hour or two

and then off she'll go.

She communicates by mobile phone

but never speaks for long.

She called me honey the other

and it almost sounded wrong.

D might do anything I ask her to

but that night she was my light.

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