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misery has a daughter,
my heart her fair abode
and unmoving target.
she stands in the field of you,
loosing words like random arrows,
smiles like drops of blood
in a teacup.
swirling, dripping,
one lump or two,
not sugar, but knots
in my stomach.
her lips are so red today.
behind the bike shed,
time and pain, caught
in a kiss.
a hole in my chest.
No ray of light, no angel
hidden there.
You took them with you,
not in your pocket, but
on the heel of your shoe.

- Smithy

to Smithy
to Poets
to Moongate