"jealousies" poems
After the rain, I see the daisies,
In their clean, white dresses,
Fresh and perfect.
Washed and bright,
Their faces lifted to the skies,
And open to the sun.
Is it their youth that makes them so fearless,
Despite their diminutive size?
A naivety of spirit or
Lack of worldly knowledge?
Or do their fleeting, precarious lives
Lead them to so embrace the now?
No, their beauty springs from a truth far older,
For they are neither flashy nor flamboyant.
A daisy knows no subterfuge,
Has no jealousies, no conceit.
Its wisdom lies deeper,
And it bends with the wind.
To value the time that we have,
To see beauty in the smallest places,
And to love without fear,
Is a talent easily lost,
And the line between happy and sad is drawn
With a thin pencil and a light touch.
In miniature perfection,
A daisy lives fully,
Its face in the sunlight.
It lives, and that is enough.
Vicki Watson © 2014
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC
I see you
Sweet like candy
But definitely a handful
I don’t want to do anything to you
I don’t want to do anything for you
I would love to experience with you
So the fave color is red
There is beauty behind your eyes – in your head
Brains built of action from your hands and happening in front of your eyes
What a surprise when you spoke to me
Simple yet impressive and something I did not see coming
Love is where you find it
Hot – sour – bitter – slightly messy
Unconditional from the crown at the top of the head to bottom of the feet
Now what ?
I don’t want to do anything to you
I don’t want to do anything for you
I would love to experience with you
Think of making love in a chair
For this to work
Both of us have to be willing and somewhat fair
Are you really sure you want unconditional ?
Can you actually accept my faults and failings ?
I have never been to prison
I believe in feelings
I am an old man with ideas, designs and thoughts in a battle with the Universe
I know how to trust you
Can you hold the word commit when the sky falls ?
I will never let you fall
I promise I’ll never make you cry
When you get scared
I’ll hold you tighter
You do not have to ask
I am your fighter
I would never question the Creator
The thief of air has taken love from me
Several times
Was my heart being prepared for you ?
Now what ?
Can you accept my creative mess process ?
Can you see the fun in how I get things done ?
Are you willing and ready for the ride of a lifetime ?
If your answer leans toward yes, double buckle – it going to be bumpy – but fun
Our daughter will be divine
Will you balk when I beg you to try for a son ?
Your effect on another male can change the world and all humankind
Spirit guides my life now
I can’t explain it
I know it when I see it
Here are my jealousies
Are you willing to grant me your T E A ?
Time – Energy – Attention
Let’s lock this energy in place
I am willing to do – not try – do
Bring me you
I am better than I used to be
Not as good as I will be
Can you love a person like me ?
I do not want your day
I do not want your night
I am a person of commitment
I want your lifetime
I will cherish those days you are mad at me
I will cherish those days you don’t understand me
No matter how sweet
I promise to never cheat
If I have to crawl thru broken glass
I always come home
Can your comfort zone let me share ?
Right or wrong
Will you be there ?
Some things I do very strong
Others start with tender
Madness is not something I accept
Yet, know that I stand
And put all of life in a blender
Here is the warning – the caveat :
Are you a moth or a flame ?
Feet on the ground
Living
The possibilities are all blue sky
Tender ********** makes Angels cry
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Australia takes her pen in hand
To write a line to you,
To let you fellows understand
How proud we are of you.
From shearing shed and cattle run,
From Broome to Hobson's Bay,
Each native-born Australian son
Stands straighter up today.
The man who used to **** his drum",
On far-out Queensland runs
Is fighting side by side with some
Tasmanian farmer's sons.
The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar
To grimly stand the test,
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,
With miners from the west.
The old state jealousies of yore
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow,
We're not State children any more —
We're all Australians now!
Our six-starred flag that used to fly
Half-shyly to the breeze,
Unknown where older nations ply
Their trade on foreign seas,
Flies out to meet the morning blue
With Vict'ry at the prow;
For that's the flag the Sydney flew,
The wide seas know it now!
The mettle that a race can show
Is proved with shot and steel,
And now we know what nations know
And feel what nations feel.
The honoured graves beneath the crest
Of Gaba Tepe hill
May hold our bravest and our best,
But we have brave men still.
With all our petty quarrels done,
Dissensions overthrown,
We have, through what you boys have done,
A history of our own.
Our old world diff'rences are dead,
Like weeds beneath the plough,
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred,
They're all Australians now!
So now we'll toast the Third Brigade
That led Australia's van,
For never shall their glory fade
In minds Australian.
Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,
Till right and justice reign.
Fight on, fight on, till Victory
Shall send you home again.
And with Australia's flag shall fly
A spray of wattle-bough
To symbolise our unity —
We're all Australians now.
3.5k
High on the mountain, overlooking the valley,
the valley where I was born, is a wooden bench.
Standing to attention are the bottom of the deep V
are houses, all the same, all in a row.
From the bench the village can be watched
It's comings and goings, the neighbours gossiping
talking about nothing and everything.
Everyone is there down below,
John the butcher, Dai the milk, Mair the bread,
Oliver's shop, where anything and everything was for sale.
A picturesque Welsh valley, where everyone is actually
Psychotic, and where you'll never leave except in a coffin feet first.
Those of us that get out, stay out.
Old feuds still burn, families not talking,
not remembering how it started.
Chocolate box prettiness masks the tension,
the hate, the jealousies, the negativity held
in the ***** of the valley.
How green was my valley?
It wasn't green, it's colour was red, like a hell fire.
Oh, the trees were green, the mountain was glorious
but that valley was poison.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
FALSE world, good night! since thou hast brought
That hour upon my morn of age;
Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,
My part is ended on thy stage.
Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear
As little as I hope from thee:
I know thou canst not show nor bear
More hatred than thou hast to me.
My tender, first, and simple years
Thou didst abuse and then betray;
Since stir'd'st up jealousies and fears,
When all the causes were away.
Then in a soil hast planted me
Where breathe the basest of thy fools;
Where envious arts professed be,
And pride and ignorance the schools;
Where nothing is examined, weigh'd,
But as 'tis rumour'd, so believed;
Where every freedom is betray'd,
And every goodness tax'd or grieved.
But what we're born for, we must bear:
Our frail condition it is such
That what to all may happen here,
If 't chance to me, I must not grutch.
Else I my state should much mistake
To harbour a divided thought
From all my kind--that, for my sake,
There should a miracle be wrought.
No, I do know that I was born
To age, misfortune, sickness, grief:
But I will bear these with that scorn
As shall not need thy false relief.
Nor for my peace will I go far,
As wanderers do, that still do roam;
But make my strengths, such as they are,
Here in my ***** and at home.
2.6k
It's cold outside.
I found a box
to hold within complacent thoughts,
outrages and jealousies.
Firewood to keep me warm.
Labels on the things I sought.
I'm seeking
the definition of what
why and how words are wrought
My raddled mind
latches on
to the slightest runaway fantasy.
As if reality
is a scorned
lover who refuses to dance with me,
declining my apologies.
My dearest paramour
return to me.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 12:29 PM UTC
Life gives my stomach knots
Dread conquers my thoughts
I am weak, for I can take it no longer
As life goes on, it gets wronger and wronger
I look to the pills; I look to the bottle
They are kind and act as my throttle
Uppers and downers
My friendly encounters
People: my enemies
Hates and jealousies
They are all better than I could ever be
They have more than I could ever see
So what will I take today?
What will make these thoughts go away?
But they'll be back, just like a pest
What I need is eternal rest
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
The flesh lusts daily against the Spirit
and the Spirit wars contrary to the flesh.
The opposing tenets of grace and iniquity
can never with each other… completely mesh.
For the redeemed sinners operate by grace,
while the practitioners of unrighteousness
prefer the dark, ungodly ways of wickedness
and will not inherit the Kingdom’s fullness.
Fleshly works are clearly evident: adultery,
fornication, idolatry, sorcery, uncleanness,
contentions, jealousies, ****** immorality,
hatred, envy, revelries and evil-mindedness.
Fruits of the sinful flesh are plain to see
and spirits cringe- at their being mentioned.
Can we expect others to pursue God’s holiness,
when people are upset- from being questioned?
For we live under God’s grace and not His Law;
His righteous wrath will be eventually revealed.
Acceptance of His gift of Salvation can insure…
that our lives will have been redeemed and sealed!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Gal 5:16; Rom 1:18-32, 2:1-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
The moon does seem to mirror my regret,
with light that fails to brighten skies to day,
it cannot blot those stars, so far away;
those jewels I could not reach and can't forget.
And as the weak one in heaven's duet;
that pale comparison, shining so grey,
without the strength to forge its own display,
those beams reflect resentment for my debt.
But should we ask the sun of jealousies
or failures through the years, when one's self-tasked;
I think we'll find regrets are not so rare,
when dreams to paint your face upon black seas
or glow with lovers on the nights they basked
are shattered by your own confounding glare.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
Fire
fire
in the sky
burned so bright
burned so high
how was I to know
it was the end of time.
Meteor predicted on
its way
flashed incandescent
as it made its way,
shattering into a
million fragments
atmosphere burning
fires starting
nuclear winter
envious of its
power.
A lone figure
on a hill
never knew
such loneliness
as this,
took your hand
and
one last kiss.
The meteor bright
brought the end of time
rendering all of our
fears, petty jealousies
brutalities and stress
our issues
our loves
irrelevant.
If I had known this
before
freedom wouldn't
have been that painted
******* *****
seductively calling
to me for more -
but could have been
a moment before
that meteor made
its call.
The fires have melted
the stars have
been renewed
the planet continues
its spinning around
the sun
the deepest ocean fishes
continue evolution's marching orders
while a cell phone alarm
flips on
and
the icon shows "no signal"
while beneath
the rubble a
malfunctioning relay
finally finds
that call made
hours ago
and the phone
rings and rings
beneath the
ashen snow
until the last
silence
no one is home.
Mother Earth
finally restored
to
its
silence
once again.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
While most people are familiar with
the principle of ‘sowing and reaping’,
it can be difficult to distinguish
between Fact and Fiction; gleaning
the Truth sometimes takes time, so
that the authentic and the fake can…
be properly separated. Sad jealousies
are found when the evil works of Man
bloom against the stark contrast of
God’s reality; seeing the good and bad,
subtly reinforces our understanding of
the wheat and tares; let us be glad,
in knowing how God divinely operates;
in Him, we can move and have our being
when our Faith is extended on behalf
of His Kingdom; when we are agreeing
with His Word, it’s easier to love and
care for others regularly, as we must;
will people observe us as His Children,
if we’re not placing in God… our trust?
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
Are you a cat or bird,
devil or saint?
Villain and victim, dichotic romantic,
bruised and beaten, ostracised.
Bruised and beaten, demonised.
A willow bending against cruel fashion's wind.
A thousand storms of impotent hate,
jealousies and malignant complaints.
Rain like sonnets before the deaf!
As your gifts are pearl before swine.
And yet thy brow is regal still.
The profile of a demon prince -
no matter what shape taketh the face.
Be thou Quasimodo or Adonis by fate.
Whose smile has lit a thousand candles
in thankless, bitter hearts,
and fires in the hearths of freaks
who need but a spark to break the leash.
Or art thou Prince of Cats?
Yearning for the freedom to roam, to hunt.
Seeking pleasure, his mistresses pats.
The enemy of closed doors and cold paws.
Or could thou be a bird?
Clipped wings, a gilded cage,
whose song can only go so far.
If not let to glide into the night, to rise,
to greet the dawn with bleary, satisfied eyes.
Of one who has been given the chance to soar!
Or else to wilt, and yowl no more.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours, or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.
So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won’t matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.
It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.
So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought but what you built; not what you got but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.
What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage,
or sacrifice that enriched, empowered, or encouraged others to emulate your example.
What will matter is not your competence but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.
What will matter is not your memories but the memories of those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom, and for what.
Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.
It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters.
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 6:13 PM UTC
Blessed by Thee, the gift of creation.
Cursed by needs of individualism.
Blessed by Thee, eternal unification.
Cursed by greed, social consumerism.
Blessed by Thee, light the gift of vision.
Cursed by breed, melanin racism
Blessed by Thee, a drop of infinity
Cursed by genes, fates indecision.
Blessed by Thee, the heart of a musician.
Cursed by jealousies rotting prison.
Blessed by Thee, Will of The Magician.
Cursed by bodies physical division.
Blessed by Thee, Love and compassion
Cursed by creed, systematic division.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Now I understand.
Both the insecurities of myself and the natural jealousies;
not of potential love affairs, but of friendships and spoken whispers
that are not for my longing ears to hear.
happiness, for harmony...
but pain, perhaps a nosy desire
to know the happenings and every little secret...
is it a vice or a inevitable wish?
For a best friend and lover to welcome me into their world as well?
This is the pain that will be harbored but never revealed
it is my own infliction to carry
and whispered to self
Every night
Neverending.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
Forced trust breeds jealousies
and in loving shells grow enemies
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
Resident Evil Always Lurking
Transcend the world of darkness, beyond where human senses can go
perceive the existence of this reality, you would otherwise never know
waiting for you is your destiny, preordained, you alone have this control
preparations for the future, by casting off the body, elevating the soul
Transcend all physical boundaries, limitations are a figment of the mind
close your eyes and you'll see, following others is what keeps you blind
achievements are within your abilities, only others try and hold you back
hoping for you to stumble, harboring hidden jealousies, waiting to attack
Transcend the pettiness of an egotistical world, where the center of all is Me
until your life changes, until you become a giver, the truth you will never see
a world without is connected to our world within, bound by words and actions
another paradox of human existence, finding unity among conflicting factions
Transcend the selfishness of your surroundings, none of us are really fully immune
witnessing people with two faces, feigning kindness, wanting us to play their tune
surviving instability of an ever changing world, seek comfort in things of purpose
find consolation in this truth, the world is not what it appears to be on the surface
Transcend the resident evil clouding your thinking, and you'll free yourself to finally live
escaping from those pitfalls of hatred and bigotry, realizing the ultimate good is to give
now having come full circle in your life, you will understand the jewel you have found
spreading goodness to others, with an endless light of happiness, will you be crowned
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
I sit here quietly enraged same like the calm front that has hit on the western range of my property. I am a story teller who has no stories and a ear filled with melody for the summer rains. The greens will need trimming and sculpting soon. The pigeons will arrive to the corners of the property to breed and propagate the flock. Sometimes it's full of **** and sometimes it's not. Mostly after the squall procedes over from the lake is the promanant time of the winter cleaning over that portion of the foothills.
Now here where I live, in the adequate and humble living quarters of mine, there is voices that travel on wind breezes that wander through my jealousies. They bring the news like airmail every so often. But mostly news of bills collectors spinning in their office chairs furiously at the amount of **** that is nessecary for this part time profession.
Sometimes during the night my eyes go bad and I often wonder when they will get suitable for work again. I've been slacking a bit on the work and more on the suitability of my mind for processes like building a fireplace. You know, the theory of it all.
Hmmm....
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
and punch the wall.
I cry out her name sobbing...
she's gone
slamming the door.
she storms out
my face stings
SLAP.
Hurt expression...rage
recriminations
wounded hearts.
Angry words, petty jealousies
my insecurities her indignation...
Confrontation, accusation.
Where have you been?
She comes home.
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 1:16 PM UTC
*My wild ambition loves to slide - ye all must understand
But fortune's ice prefers only the most virtuous of hand.
In Malaga I grew weary and wanton to possess
The most colorless canvas, one easy with a lazy happiness,
Disdained by golden fruit to the viewer be
As I passed the crowd to gently shake the tree.
Now manifest in paint, inward contrived and long since
I stood in bold defiance with the heart of a prince,
Held up on the square by one wanting to buy my latest cause.
Against the wind I held it up in spite of all the laws.
Do they wish to thicken my lot among all their other mistakes?
What circumstances find you this? -This is what my mind makes!
The buzzing of my emissaries fill my ears
With many solitary jealousies and fears,
Arbitrary thoughts brought forward into the light,
Contemplating existence, must it prove my vision right?
Weak are the arguments! Which the true artist knows full well,
Where weak minded people curse my renderings or are easy to rebel.
For am I not governed by the moon and by the far off stars?
Tread lightly on me and don’t put me behind your own bars.
And once in a shard of time let the Annunaki’s scribe record,
That my vision once rendered could somehow affect their lord.
The unrecognized Enki still wants to be a chief, yet none
He created was found as fit as barren Adam.
Not that he wished his greatness to create,
For leaders should wish not to be called great.
But he like I know our titles are not to be allowed.
For titles are useless and only dependent upon a crowd,
Those are kingly powers, thus ebbing us out, they might be
Drawn by the dregs of a falsely acclaimed democracy.
But in my paint I attempt, with studied arts to ease,
And shed the unholy venom with visions such as these.
On the other side of the canvas, not much escapes my eye –
But once in front of it – nothing escapes the me that I call I.*
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Adoringly applauding
Arrogant acrobatic aristocratic,
Bourgeois bad-boys.
Braving boredom and bills,
Caught controlling criminal
Circles like a circus.
Daring to do, and to deceive
Desperate damsels in distress,
Each accepting enemies.
Everyone explaining elements
From the final fights
Frought with frustration.
Getting groovy- grown old
Garnering glittering gold.
Holidaying in Getafé,
Holding onto hands of harlots,
Implying impotence and insolence,
Ignorant in their ilk.
Jovially joking,
Jesting about juvenile jealousies;
"I kissed Katie Kurtis"
Knowingly comments one kid.
Left to love and lose,
Like Caesar and his laurels,
Making music and malice,
Manifesting manic malpractices.
Natalie narrates,
"Not now, not ever".
Obvious obstacles avoided,
Objectifying objects that are obsolete.
Praying, pondering over pros,
False prophets photographed as they pose.
Qualifying quangos,
Quantitative quelling of queries,
Raising riots and runctions,
Realising regal and royal remedies,
Celebrating summer solstice,
Solitude is bliss.
Try tampering telephones
To transcribe threat of treason,
Unreal unilateral promises
Unwound by underlying urchins.
Vowing to voice very real values,
Vox pop video views.
Wearing water coloured wellingtons,
Wondering over wax cuneiform works.
Xylophone playing exemplary,
Xavier exists in the imaginary.
Yearly yearning for you,
You're yoked as Gonne with Yeats
(unequally)
Zeroing in on Ritz and Rubble,
Rubble the Zealots want to reign.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC
Uncaring minutes are but passersby
disregarding my wails.
They hear me; they offer no help.
Though, with only sixty seconds to exist,
why would they stop for me?
The hours pound against my skull with intent to smash their way in.
Such constant clangor resonates through my consciousness
disturbs my ego,
dislodges regrets,
the agitation seems to sieve out
tiny jealousies from among other thoughts.
The Days...
Oh those ********* Days.
They see me confused and seize their chance;
they pull out my feet
right from under my frame,
and helpless, hurt,
I collapse to the earth.
And here time really sets in.
The Months form gangs called 'Years'
and The Years take their turn
breaking my joints, my fingers, my knees,
all my snappable, crackable points.
Curved, crippled, and creaking,
I languish in fantasies of what's supposed to be,
oh, and the 'might-have-beens'.
Time makes things worse.
A dark shadow moves over me.
I look up as far as a heavy, beaten head will allow
only to see the massive, soul-crushing weight of the decades
seating their backside;
oppressively,
down to rest upon my twig-like spine.
Snap
And throughout the abuse,
I crawl, cringe, cower
as safe as can be in a low lying state on the ground,
(which is still six feet too high for all that time cares!)
I hear from somewhere afar
an unfaltering decree
from my maker to me
"Stand up straight! For Heaven's sake!"
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
My Specter around me night and day
Like a wild beast guards my way;
My Emanation far within
Weeps incessantly for my sin.
A fathomless and boundless deep,
There we wander, there we weep;
On the hungry craving wind
My Specter follows thee behind.
He scents thy footsteps in the snow
Wheresoever thou dost go,
Through the wintry hail and rain.
When wilt thou return again?
Dost thou not in pride and scorn
Fill with tempests all my morn,
And with jealousies and fears
Fill my pleasant nights with tears?
Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Has bereaved of their life.
Their marble tombs I built with tears,
And with cold and shuddering fears.
Seven more loves weep night and day
Round the tombs where my loves lay,
And seven more loves attend each night
Around my couch with torches bright.
And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with wine my mournful head,
Pitying and forgiving all
Thy transgressions great and small.
When wilt thou return and view
My loves, and them to life renew?
When wilt thou return and live?
When wilt thou pity as I forgive?'
Over my sins thou sit and moan:
Hast thou no sins of thy own?
Over my sins thou sit and weep,
And lull thy own sins fast asleep.
What transgressions I commit
Are for thy transgressions fit.
They thy harlots, thou their slave;
And my bed becomes their grave.
Never, never, I return:
Still for victory I burn.
Living, thee alone I'll have;
And when dead I'll be thy grave.
Through the Heaven and Earth and Hell
Thou shalt never, quell:
I will fly and thou pursue:
Night and morn the flight renew.'
Poor, pale, pitiable for
That I follow in a storm;
Iron tears and groans of lead
Bind around my aching head.
Till I turn from Female love
And root up the Infernal Grove,
I shall never worthy be
To step into Eternity.
And, to end thy cruel mocks,
Annihilate thee on the rocks,
And another form create
To be subservient to my fate.
Let us agree to give up love,
And root up the Infernal Grove;
Then shall we return and see
The worlds of happy Eternity.
And throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said:
"This is the Wine, and this the Bread."'
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Like manually overriding the outskirts into your mind,
The beauty of you will live on forever and through all time,
Teenage crush why don't ya,
That smile gives me..amnesia,
I could feel my jealousies emerging-like-bacteria,
Beautiful like capitula,
No-place-of dystopia,
I'll make a wonderland for ya-through utopia,
miss ricci,
what's your name
wait!I just said it,
maybe I'm just nervous,
the beauty of you
makes me regret it all,
don't wanna deceive ya,
smile so enticing,
your voice is heaven,
no second guessing,
the beauty of you,
makes me regret it all,
I could put a million flowers in your hair and
kiss you like Casper when he changed into
human form to flaunt his charm into impressing
your Sight with his presence,
that's a lesson to learn,
miss ricci,
what's your name
wait!I just said it,
maybe I'm just nervous,
the beauty of you
makes me regret it all,
don't wanna deceive ya,
smile so enticing,
your voice is heaven,
no second guessing,
the beauty of you,
makes me regret it all.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC