tracing the line
of your lip
I slip
into love
and loss
and long
to journey back
to then
the days we spent
alone
together
welded at the hip
that sweet soft lip
that one day turned
to sour
to stone
and me alone
to try to paint you
back.
not my city anymore o, Melbourne gone the Biting Eye Catcher Thumping Tum Sebastian’s Bertie’s Southern Cross bar jazz haunts folk dives...
different toilets in the night no guiding light strange bed wrong height no morning tea no toast no shower up at an ungodly hour...
man stands naked on the platform muscular and hairy shiny taut ready for our eyes our charcoal and our rubbers man stands naked and...
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