Publisher's Synopsis
BLOOD-STAINED-MILK It's important to state that her intellectual ability was as alluring as her natural sexuality, She had wonderful tattoos and hid Bret Easton Ellis novels under her bed, She concealed the heart of a warrior under-siege from rogue metaphors, She found me floundering in a fashionable coffee shop holding child-like, a Latte in both hands, She took me to her home by the sea and filled me with love, passion and blood-stained-milk, She showed me how to evaporate unwanted memory; she unveiled all her chilling secrets, She sang glorious through summer-surf and taught me how to walk blind, She taught me to touch softly, love openly and recognise the lie in every teardrop of truth, Ultimately the flaws in my perfection became the perfection in my flaws, She would love me like a moonlit breeze embracing summer wine, Then without warning she would nail me like a Christ in a graphic novel to philosophical wood, For lunch on Wednesdays she would serve up all my words raw with assorted seasonings, She would grieve in silence and drip feed me her historical departure, She bled without shame and leaked into me through lust and blood-stained my milk, On Saturday's we would walk in the hills, but Sunday's she was focused and brutal as progression, She was precise as time, both giving and curing the infection, She was never wasteful, the hungry eat everything, The more she searched the less she found, The less she found the more convinced she became there was something hidden, The last day we spent together I held my heart still, child-like in both hands, I still drink Latte's in fashionable coffee shops, When it rains through summer I can taste her blood-stained-milk in the warm damp air.
