Under the spreading chestnut treei sold you and you sold meit twists and turns
bubbles up and simmers down again
sometimes it bursts and its as if i'm catching a bloody mess in my bare hands
powerless as it flows over my fingers and trickles down my wrists
it lies in wait
on a slow boil for a long time then suddenly it overflows
when i least expect it
how do i catch it?
the lies slice deep creating the sores from which it bubles forth
acrid and bitter, green and foul
maybe they were truth's then but now all thats left is anger
with a tail end of melancholic sweetness that lingers as i wash it off my fingers
and watch as the colours of my heart drip into the white sink
there lie them and here lie weunder the spreading chestnut tree1:41 am;can you keep a secret?