pigeons love too…I think. 

pigeons in the bus station

strutting along with their tiny heads 

springing forward and back

reminding me of our last night together

in Bristol where character and sincerity

distracted me from your devilish methods

of torturous abuse disguised in the name of love

scraping the last pieces of kind residue from the

crevices of my heart, which you smoked like the last

gram of resin on the planet earth, because you needed…

needed, absolutely needed one last hit. you win.