Voodoo.

The clinks from the glasses and the jokes at the table, all lost in his buzzed mind 

He's somewhere there, nowhere closer, in that transitional moment, the cacophony well behind

The lost memories surface, like a flood..her eyes, her touch, her laugh, her smell

Days have passed, distance grown, and yet the vice of her fist around his heart hasn't loosened, the lump in the throat is ever more pronounced

Her, the voodoo girl.... and he's back, getting the joke now and muffles out a laughter..


~A~

The Leap.

I am back at the cliff, overlooking the sea, the calm breeze failing to settle my nerves for the dive

Yet I plunge, for you are there, frolicking, your hair glistening from the awakening sun, laughing lightly at my awkward jump

I have seen that gaze.. those eyes, do they mock me or do they yearn for me, but do I really care

For there is that rush, aah that rush.. and I am back again at the cliff, overlooking the sea, the sea of love, and I fall for you, all over again,.

~A~

The End.

Through the desert, colors from a dusky winter sky, resembled of a varied kaleidoscope

His bare feet over the cold dunes of sand, but eyes etched on her by her window, watching the dying warm rays shining off her dusky skin

Night fell and the ramparts kept growing, hiding the window bit by bit, him losing sight of who she really was

Was she teasing him, did she not see him in such delicate love, sublimating him from the inside, for he could never accept that she and her palace were a mere mirage

~A~

Bygone.

She was never so vivified, beckoning him, entrancing him in her bind, in his mind

These thoughts.., were it too late now, were her gates too rusty to open again

Should he run to seek her heart once more, the one he let go foolishly

Maybe she deserved better, or can he ever deserve her from here on and ever..,these thoughts..,they linger and wilt him like never before...

~A~

By Her Window.

Admiring yourself in that velvet dress, you suddenly look past the mirror, at me

Flushed of course as I am, colors bursting at the seams, if only I could let you see

But you look past me at the first rain of the summer, yet approaching me, overpowering me with your scent than mine

For I am the wallflower hanging by your window and you have the power to make me feel

~A~

Painting.

In the meadows, under the lone oak tree 

With none in sight as far as I could see 

An unknown french song, playing softly from the record I stole 

O my summer girl, this palette is still lifeless without you

~A~