Power and nature snared on canvas,
all that remains of our well-loved scene;
a fiery wet brush that flashed in the sun,
expressions of grass that still dream..

What secret magic did you practice then,
sculpting heart's beauty to last;
dark loving eyes that will never fade,
a supple spirit pinned to the past.

I visit the grave cold stone of your bed,
bring you leaves and lilies that wilt;
if I could just paint the soul of your life,
I shouldn't mind all the tears I have spilt.

Empty are the days you filled in my life,
your easel and brushes lie scattered;
Yet ever the sky plays through the trees,
mixing wind and color to spatters.

Golden pulse grew on the shore,
Ferns along the hill,
And the red cliff roses bore
Bees to drink their fill;

Bees that from the meadows bring
Wine of melilot,
Honey-sups on golden wing
To the garden grot.

But to me, neglected flower,
Phaon will not see,
Passion brings no crowning hour,
Honey nor the bee.

The first thing I see in the morning is your bright, soothing smile that leaves me dazzled and lost.
Whenever you are speaking to me, I can't help but look into your eyes. The mystery that they hold, oh my, my mind is studying, I am figuring out and my soul is dying know...it's sad to think I'll never know what you're thinking of me.
Whenever I am at one of your hotspots, my eyes search for you, and when they find you, sometimes I don't realize that I wasn't actually breathing. Even now as I type and remembered this moment I am finding it hard to breathe...
But then I stop and think to myself, Is my mind playing tricks on me? Or is it me who doesn't seem to understand you?

Red roses, red ribbons, and war.
I’ll fill you up and leave you wanting more.
White wine, white lies, and dust.
I’ll turn your “might” into a “must”.
Dark eyes, dark nights, and a game.
I’ll be the winner, you’ll bear the pain.
Clear head, clear heart, and hope
I’ll hang by your feet at the end of my rope.

You’ll dance on my fiddle,
and seek my acquittal,
as I stand, non-committal
and feed you love’s riddle.

One hit, one kiss, and a hook.
I’ll script the ending to your repeatable book.
Two more, too much, then again, more
I’ll be the curse you long to endure.
Three hopes, three ghosts, and a ****’s crow.
I’ll write the only truth you’ll choose to know.
For what? For whom? You’ll plead.
I’ll offer a reminder: you exist for me.

I’ll act as gravity,
a pull towards depravity,
and at the brink of insanity,
I’ll walk away, earth-shattering.