the first
the fists
the twists
In the misses of the mist
landing of the gists
how innocent the lips
and forming ****

A poet getting on her lists
was a mission getting her digits
So many awesome fits
With absence and being a delinquent
but thanx to lit
I would deliver an eloquent writ
her splendour had her brightly lit
Shaded by shades of the soldiers' sit
it was more than swagger, more than wit

to have her fall to bits

You'd need a magician's tricks
To score a perfect fix
If lucky to clinch an ***** kiss
to have many diss and jealousy spit
so mystery had to be involved to keep it cryptic
in and out of time vibes did tick
romance in chaos did chance flick
Left the dark ill jadedly sick
But where the wall to make the picture stick?

*** how much fun
I had been a  bun
Had to make a run
To leave the gun
And free from triggering confining puns
solve unsolvable sums
Read unwritten psalms
Savour mystic and golden palms

the first
the fists
the twists
misses in the mist
Missing on the list
shining glit
a player's kit
To keep a number hit
Save her from darker smits
and all you wanted was to love and transform her like a smith.