Velvet Roped Heart Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes

Your words lie in my ossuary
strike up the hookah,
you aren't what I thought you'd be
now I smile under a Moroccan star.
You communicated in hieroglyphics
denying the haboob between us,
like oil and water we don't mix -
memories of you age like rust.
Our pas de deux ends with a firing squad
your porcupine kisses not desired,
my sense of self once robbed
from a cannon you should be fired.
There was always solemnity in your style
subtle confusion in my action
our past collisions cannot deny
the end of a union fuelled with pain and passion!