She swirls in the heart shaped air you graced her space with.
Twirling your image with the tip of her finger into her spiralling curls.
You are becoming well entangled in her blonde mess.
She can get high by the thought of you, and this awakens her...

For this feeling runs the course of her veins and plants itself right at the heart.
Her soul receives the message and the beat begins to start.
Her chest, it thumps your rhythm and her blood can hear your tune.
It's pulsing to the sound sending her right back to you.'

"Love doesn't need to be torturous.
It can be safe yet ever curious.
Lost in love, delirious.
But more than ever -- Real."

-xoXox-

I write poems about beauty;
Your name is on every line.
And how your pretty little fingers
Were made to perfectly fit into mine.

I write songs about perfection;
Your name echoes all through.
And how this hellish life on earth
Seems so heavenly with you.

I try to form perfect rhymes,
But to what mere words can I rhyme thee?
For 12 lines are too few to put into words
How much you mean to me.

It was in wander
   For not lost was she
It was in wonder
   For without sin she led,
The tree bearing sweet fruit
Enticing her
   Forward.
Lust sent a lumber puncture through
her spine.
   Upwards it shot
to the brain, cerebral forms
    into a red beating heart.
It excited her, the
Freedom found in such innocence
    pulsating quivers.
She waited
                  Adam to her Eve
daisy chains falling from her neck
framing a prepubescent chest.
Such tender collar
Bones, hooks temperately fastening
white knotted cotton,
hand sewn dress virginial
White.
Annabelle's life, a melody of
                   melancholic cacophonic
raspers,
from asylums.
Former patients; Briarcliff Manor
residing in her; misery.
Innocent runnings from grave
Dangers of,
                   stark raving madness.
For, today, she wasn't embroiled
                   as Arden's pet.
Instead she was the little girl so born
to be,
before the woman was stolen
bound by a physicians sick
nightmarish reenactments.
For, today she was
Free.
        a starling
                       passionate
                                         darling.

© Sia Jane

Lush green of variant shades
cloud my vision with the hush of tranquility
There is no mystery here
only the simple drop of sunlight that can't quite penetrate
I can remember the times on this grass with you
when we stretched out in Nirvana
and I'm not certain where you've gone
but this blissfulness entrances me
enhances me
so I am one in essence with this triumphant fertility
that makes not even the slightest rustle

And here in Nirvana, I can crawl on my belly
keeping to myself
avoiding the bright sun
until I reach the newest dream
that whispers tales in the ripples

But here, ignorance is reflected in the disturbance
of a shimmering pond as a snake enters the water
and slithers across my face
There have been no creatures here before
and all I can think is what a beautiful thing

Leaves fall down and wither at my feet
branches brush my shoulders
and I am annoyed that they try to hold me back
All I want
is to glide my hand across those scales
to stroke that body before it goes
and I am left wondering

So I bend down before the pond
and I can't hear my peaceful song
and its' tongue flicks out to greet me
so so sweetly
and I can't understand why the snake is now laughing
or why I'm sweating
or how I came to notice that I'm feeling captured
not enraptured
So I creep back, and I run towards the brightest sun
and the snake is gone
as I break through the ferns that snap and whimper goodbye
and I see the edge to the unknown land

Maybe I could choose to strut forward or sink back
but I'm forgetting
I can't image the soft greens
The pond seems muggy in my memory
and your face is blocked, now we'll never meet

And I'm so fearful of the colours that I don't remember
so I plow into the mist
and I never truly "know"
but I can feel
as I lose my Nirvana