The Bar And Bedroom

You once said that we quarter our words,
In order to enable the clash of the titans; that battle of the swords,

But she and I are all torn,
Not cut of the same flesh but broken none the less.

I am cloth not to be damaged
and she is the silk you must not stain,
Disdained by disaster,
and intrigued by your bewildered desire,
You ignite a forest fire within the organs of a body disowned,

Crown me the inglorious bastard of a war not fought,
Of a party not finished,
The man who doesn’t come by when he says he will,

The man who took your hot blood
and made it into a wilful wives tale,
The man who took your vessel
and trampled and wetted,
You,
wishing for a vale,
a cascade of protection and genuine affection,

It never came.
It never came.
It never came.