Immersed in soft red velvet
Sending shivers down my spine
The goosebumps, they are plenty
In a moment so divine
Brushed against my face, my torso, arms, and hands
Whenever wrapped in velvet
It tends to ruin daily plans

She was queen bee for a reason
She was respected and revered
At least that’s what they told her
Behind a voice of fear
She was quick to chop a head clean off
Without blinking an eye
So your whole life sometimes
Depended on your ability to lie

It was a poem without an ending
An incoherent verse
That was spewed out with the alcohol
Then aided by a nurse
The mood was rather somber
It was palpable at best
So the poem went without an ending
And made little to no sense
It was a simple little rhyme scheme
A play on different words
That were fed into my bloodstream
Which now sounds a bit absurd
I could taste the words when spoken
But if they were deferred
It still wouldn’t have an ending
Despite what you may have heard

His mother sang to him a lullaby
When she put him down for bed
Her voice was soft and mellow
As he rest his weary head
His eyes were closed as he faded off
And her voice grew softer still
Until it turned into a whisper
With her goal, in turn, fulfilled

With thunder comes the drama
A stormy weather scene
Through the rain and lightning
The wind begins to breathe
Huffing and puffing
Viciously conceived
A hurricane is brewing
Agrees the fallen trees
Puddles form with rapid speed
The skies lit up like day
Until the weather slows; subsides
The clouds are pale and gray
Sickly if you will
It’s not my place to say
It just may need a little sunshine
For the rain to go away

‪She’s crossed this bridge before ‬
‪In a long forgotten dream‬
‪When she fell into the water‬
‪And was carried far upstream ‬
‪Reaching out for rocks‬
‪To slow down her increased speed‬
‪And waking up wet and sweaty ‬
‪Drowning in her sheets‬

It’s like the smell of the earth after rain
Tall trees lined up in a row
The horizon isn’t as far as it seems
But it grows smaller the further you go
It’s the beginning of a journey
Not the end of the road
Just to the edge of extinction
Where true lovers go
While held in his arms
Borderline exposed
Still managing to stay completely
composed
It must be a talent
That you see done in shows
For a bouquet of flowers
And a single red rose