| sitting at a table, with you, nothing to lose, red candles burning, wax melting, styles clashing. You can't over come my appearance, you can't redirect the hit. I'm watching what I thought to be a halo fade. As the heated wax drips into the vase of roses, and the red whine grows warm, this dinner plan has fallen through. The fire burning in its place, the bats in the belfery, getting a taste, all of this. Slowly seems like a waste of time, but I'll get you yet. Slipping between the sheets, a struggle of bodies becoming unwraveled, mascarades fade, and your white feathers hit the ground. Is this your way of saying sorry? Over this relationship should I begin to worry? Money doesn't matter, figments of the imagination mean more than material. But, you my dear, I'll love past this year, just to tease, and hassle with, to get you into my silk sheets and beyond, please every whim, give everything you are so perfect now. I'm glad to see you here. |
