Your ebony hair is the night personified,
Or maybe it's all just in my mind,
But I can't forget how graceful you seem in stride,
Like an angel made of clouds caught in mid-glide,
Yes, I do mean to say that you are heavenly,
And my heart's door awaits your entrance readily,
I hear there is a certain kind of sadness to be found in beauty,
But your eyes seem unaware of this apparent reality,
I'm caught in a certain wrongness, something feels amiss,
And only then do I realize just how badly I'd like a kiss.

The enigma of space is reflected in your eyes,
And Beauty dares not reveal to you it's true guise,
Your ruby lips shame the rose of dawn,
And your beauty is only rivaled, by the coming of the morn,
Your smooth flesh is testament to God's craftsmanship,
And your lips, oh, I could write an ode on just those lips,
There is a way, you pluck at my deepest heartstrings,
Revealing who I really am, amongst other things,
I crave your presence and dread your departure,
And with your allure, comes my heart's rapture,
What more can I do, to emboldened my claim,
When in your presence, my heart seemingly grows lame,
I leave you now, with a memory of bliss:
The genesis of our meeting, and the shadow of a kiss.

Let's make music, I hear you say,
To flee from all the sorrows within the fray,
Let's make music, I hear you say,
So together you and I, we start to play,
We strum to the beat of the eagle's call,
We pound out the rhythm of the waterfalls,
We tap out the echo of the voice of May,
And together you and I, continue to play,
This isn't music, I hear in your voice,
I smile and knowing, that I have no choice,
Kiss you tender, underneath the moonlight,
And with this our souls, begin to sing
To the melody in the thrilling of our heartstrings.

Before the midnight comes
I'll lie by your side
and look into your
deep blue eyes
stroking your
soft blonde hair.
You'll hold my
hands and whisper
to me, "I love you,"
and I'll press you
against me till I feel
your heart beating against
mine, and then I'll
whisper in you ear,
"Well don't."

Your eyes are stars, in the midnight sky,
Your hair like darkness, woven from the night,
I reach for you, like a moth reaches for light,
Yet you pull away, and now here I lie,
I dream of your lips, in the cold days that come,
My heart a growing and welling dam
Of pain and sorrow, unrelenting emotions,
That **** me inside, and strip me of all devotions,
For I want you, I love you, and I always will,
But now I guess, it's time to be real,
I might be eternally in love with you,
But I know deep down, you'll never love me too.

There is a river, of blistering cold,
                                      With a history unknown, and a past untold,
                                             I hear it's waters, are like liquid fire,
                                        Doused in hate, and tempered with desire,
                                      I've seen its violent tremors, and jarring quakes,
                                  The bones and destruction, it leaves in its wake,
                                       But I've heard it's melodies, and sweet lullabies,
                                              That lift my spirits, and dull my cries,
                                         So I long to sail, upon this river of strife,
                                          I long to sail, upon this river that is Life.

There is a lake, I long to cross,
It carries burdens, and too much loss,
But if you wait, till the midnight comes,
You may find your lover waiting, with open arms,
I've felt its cold, like the hand of death,
Yet it brings revival, and new birth,
I lurk by its waters, waiting and watching,
For stories and legends, or at least something,
For I may leave tonight, and I pray I can cope,
With the life I'll lead, upon this lake that is Hope.

                                                          ­        But there is an island I long to shun,
                                                           ­      Filled with man, and filled with sun,
                                                         It's rivers are sweet, and flow with grace,
                                                          ­        And life goes on, at a leisurely pace,
                                                         There are fruits heard of, only in legends,
                                        Where heroes roam wild, with their days to spend,
                                                 On this island there's a home, waiting for me,
                                                             ­       Filled with those, that I long to see,
                              But this island I must shun, for though filled with mirth,
                                                Is nothing more, than the island, that is Death.

I turn to my left, I turn to my right,
I have no ammo left, no more strength to fight,
I see their faces, unmasked pits of disgust,
How long till I die, how long will I last,
It's all a mistake, one huge misunderstanding,
A crime forbidden, by an impatience outstanding,
I see it all lost, passing away,
Gone from my reach, hidden within the fray,
I turn to face, my dying past,
Thinking that each breath, could be my last,
But this cannot, will not be, my last declaration,
When all along this could be, just a game of misdirection.