and begging a sculptor, its seems
Told no, turned away
or I may cast off my dreams
What is this madness
driving my days, a full moon body
taken by a woman’s craze
It stuns in my tracks, like I am watching a show
and gasping and pleading
not to go, yet there she rolls
fast down a fatal steep slope
pining for freshness, lustful elope
I am a ghost walking in her
flustered at bright and big eyes,
where a hand guides my back
brief, rushes start up my spine
Should it be so easy
to unsettle my soul
the moon is still lurking
I do not yet know
The force propelling
moves along my hips,
these big browns of mine beautiful
I cannot move my lips,
have I truly never been told this?
/
I am looking through a mirror now, watching my life.
The woman playing it out may as well have a knife.
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