Feel the bite of silver against your skin
You've welcomed back the steel again
feel the sting of alcohol down your throat
Forget your pain as you begin to float
You tried to run for so long
But you couldn't stay so strong
A cup of hotly brewed tea
with a menthol roll
sitting on an ash tray
beside my widely opened book
of a guilty pleasure promise
Day dreaming of a cold weather
with pine trees covered in white softness
waft of cinnamon
mixed with baked floured ginger
In your presence, I become curious.
Alone, with thoughts of you I ruminate.
An infatuation so infectious.
Oh, how you make my life illuminate.
All I ever hear from you is silence.
What makes you so reserved, timid and shy?
Oh what I’d give to make your acquaintance.
So I listen and wait when you are nigh.
A quick connection of the eyes, a glance.
Your acknowledgement I’m barely given.
So strong is my desire for a chance.
Allow me your love and to you I’d run.
When will a mutual feeling flourish?
No confidence that I’ll gather courage.
Her eyes express longing you cannot fathom
You try so very hard to cross that chasm
Knowing nothing else matters but reaching her
You dream of the day that connection will occur
She is something you can't and won't define
She is the definition of what you need
In the distance a hazy and vague outline
And somehow because of her your soul is freed
You miss her though she was never truly yours
As from your open mouth your broken heart pours
Words that try to capture that image so faint
She is a picture you could not ever paint
at your most comfortable
was the most beautiful
sight these sore eyes ever
laid eyes on
and I carry that with me
I long to see
walls in rubble on the ground
as times wears all things down
fears floating to the surface
up, up above dark depths
of things unknown
your hair, matted
a storm cloud,
a flash flood crashing
and flowing down your
across your breast
Motherearth even slows its
spin when hair hangs long
I've seen this begin
after so many ends
but black&blue; eyes
still twinkle as pretty
ghosts floats by
the perfume is permanent,
& as prevalent as the
cloud of smoke that follows
me as I go along
shaking arms will
when it comes home