There were furrows in his brow
Kept his music much too loud
Paper skin and paper grin
To his chest, a heart we'll pin

Veins are ****** tunnels
A carbonated bottle
A lump love funnels,
Bubbles over, feeling sober
Dismal future, no four leaf clover
Afraid to search around for a light
Afraid to wait around and see that it might
Not be all that worthwhile

He lived to take flight
Dark crimson in a ****** vile
Injection withdrawn, thin paper smile
Down below,
Ground is coming near
And before the pavement
A vision was clear

A final thought rummaged through his brain
A blissful blow, a final aching pain
A florescent concussion, an angelic cheer
A temporary life he lived
For it was not death he feared

Allow me to step into your space.
Let us be close,
standing face to face.
So close...
Where our hands could meet,
and our hearts could greet...
The one chance
to finally indulge this long awaited dance.

Cradling one another...
In open arms.
Surendering...
Submitting...
To careless caresses,
bashful gazes and charms.

Our feet would mirror,
the gaits
of each other.
Our eyes ensnared
with senses all bared...
To the rise and fall
of the nectarous melody.
Playing for what seemed like eternity
in silence.

That eternity is now here.
Seizing this dance,
we gambol and frolic
without reservations and fear...
For the hours have frozen
and the seconds have ceased to tick.

This is our song.
Seemingly refined,
cultured and well versed.
This is our dance.
Enchanting,
perfect,
albeit unrehearsed.