Only good whores become saints.
The black cat with a human face
Stared out of the shadows of Park Street
Like a Winchester Goose turned bad.
I ran for the shelter of the market
But sensed that I was hotly pursued
By a girl in a crimson dress
Wearing a steeple hat.
This was the moment that I decided
That marriage is a safer option
Than wandering the streets at night.
I have been trying to avoid you for some time,
As you have me,
But please now accept that my motives
Are entirely chaste and honourable,
And that I have never meant you harm.
The brushing of your fur backwards
That Saturday afternoon
Was merely a simple accident,
Not the revealing of my true motives.
Love always comes at a price,
Especially for social misfits,
So don`t you dare alter to please me,
I prefer the rough edges intact.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 3rd. - 4th. 2014.
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