She Got Away From The Estate

 She reminds me of oleander

Honorary wreaths,

And crowns of Laurel.

Tepid and cool,

Delicate yet firm,

One’s very own Sabbath

A liberty confirmed.

She works in the city,

Got herself a good job,

Got off of the estate’s

Kept her head down at school.

 

Watching her ascension

Into domains unforetold,

I can only feel alone

In my council rented home.

Stuck here, hammered

As helpless as lead

Boiling blisters of alcohol

Splitting my desperate head.

Police sirens and graffiti,

S****y pubs and spliffs.

The things she left behind,

I bet she don’t miss…

 

In her hands are carnations

Blood red and white,

Plucked from the garden

Of her internal delights.

Jasmine and Lilia,

Gardenias her scent,

I wish I could go with her

Away from this stench.