His morning sun just cracks awake,
up an at 'em she crows happily,
looking down on him gawking,
so cozy in that lazy plush bed,
while soft yellow lush sunshine,
says "wake up you sleepyhead"
as she rests easy on his shoulder,
as it blazes through,
and her fury getting bolder
burning holes in his tired brain,
and yeah it does make him happy,
sometimes regardless,

Of where and when,
all things same or not,
save for presently,
this sunshine is burning hot,
where he sits pensive,
in this melancholy morn,
as that sunshine is trying,
her heart it must be torn,
and in her torrid,
and dear desperation,
in a friendzy guy kinda way,
acting crazy just to stick around,
just a chance to have him,
take a grasp the bright,

And shiny illusion she's trying,
to force on him -
molesting his memories,
caressing with spindled refractions,
offerings of her warmth to shade,
truth slipping through,
the complex damage,
created rifts maze his mind puzzled,

Faulty places they say,
probably weakly built with no real,
chance of a brighter day,
no access to better materials,
some doubt his sincerity,
maybe it's just his way,
flawed in creation possibly,
fractured by grievous trauma,
definitely he's affected though,
by the endless seaming drama

What could it be this haunting,
an unbearable long buried truth,
to uncover it to daunting,
or perhaps a recently breached,
mausoleum of memories,
was looted in hate forming,

That creature lurks behind corners,
sneaks up to scare even the bejesus,
tapping him on his shoulder,
softly darting away and back,
eyes BULGE like he's looking at money,
or high on his other white lady,

Light now curving,
becoming more seductive as the day pains,
in the tempting sun's light,
remaining and creating,
a silky dark silhouette,
moving in a lovely shape,
in a shape shifting pirouette,

Beautiful dark ebony woman,
shadows form enchantresses,
sirens in traces of old wolf,
grey skies drift in the air,
of smoking cigarettes and ****,
an he's high flying too on these,
as nicotine-stained tongues burn,
wishing for the night,
his heart will always yearn,

Before he's feasting heavy,
being a glutton for punishment,
savoring thoughts on what never was,
as his alter ego now dances,
seductively for her daylight,

In an iota of darkness expanding,
blots and traces of ink stained,
hearts with crackling finish,
pigments revolving and rotating,
a ghostly apparition appears,
diluting the light forever,
and alleviating any fears,

Terrified though he is so still,
it looked so nice outside,
and now it seems she's broken,
down his only needed will,
who could have known this,
everyone is about their day,
he's so haunted and alone,
an that shiny lady has gone away,
as this heavenly highwayman,
has come to find a home,
a real menacing spector of yesterday,
just takes completely over,

He realizes and submits,
to the possession of his body,
forever becoming his shadow,
to wear it well that's too gaudy,
better to be who you were -once,
than nothing at all,
he figures looking into the mirror,
at his new "normal"
and gratefully bowing down,
to the cold truth of his life.

Ma Cherie  © 2017