Just A Mattress

She was the fire
In a deserted room, above the launderette
When life was rich and love cheap.
Within her I found my fortune waiting
Skating on ice hardly frozen
Yet solid and with a view to the deep.
Above her head I was holding
The inclement weather she loathed and
Before she left, love died.
The curry sauce no longer hides
The grease within the chips
And her hand no longer holds the plastic fork.
Somewhere between heaven and here
Above a launderette, in the deserted room
She was the fire.

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