A Storm

I don’t get off on this.

My promise to you

Full of platitudes.

Not being rude

In any way shape or form,

But a storm is coming.

I can smell it

And I walk the streets

Of oxford,

Bored out of my mind,

Not blind

To possibility.

Love gives you that,

But catch 22

Can I tell the truth,

I can lie no more.

If you have memories

Stored.

Reflect on them,

And if you respect them,

Just give me a clue

And I can show you

What I can do.

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