Your Song...

I met two interesting people, that I enjoyed and felt like writing about. With due thanks to Gin Soaked Boy.

I’m the feeling, the old fashioned high collar,
I’m the princess, smiling getaways with murder
I’m wanderlust, the roving eye you never had
I’m wanton beauty, the beast you can’t deny.

I’m the perfect wordsmith, the mighty muse of your moment
I’m pure addiction, sweet hunger and hallucination
I’m the knowing fortress you cannot wait to destroy
I’m the fierce freedom that eludes you every night.

I’m your deepest shallow, the inescapable delicious shame
I’m the drumming rain on your drizzled window pane
I’m the remembered fantasy, that exhilarating long scream
I’m the shot... in the dark of your dream…

I’m the fire in your art, as you grapple to reignite
I’m the inconsistent canvas, the fury keeping you alive
I’m the naughty in the snapshot, that’ll never wink from your frame
I’m the hat that you wear, for the smell of my hair.

I’m the scrupulous irreverence, laughing at your shackles
I’m the simple, in your convoluted complicated
I’m so pertinent especially in the impertinence...
The relevant seduction of your inarticulate questions.

I’m the height that makes you dizzy with fear
I’m redefined rules, forgotten to adhere
I’m the furtive rearview, that forgets to have and to hold
I’m Salvador’s Gala as he sold his soul

I’m the greasepaint dream, stirring violently awake
I’m the beloved crib you can’t make your peace with
I’m the fleeting impression of original sin
I’m the softness of skin against skin.

I’m the well behaved discretion by day
I’m the thrill of a secret memory
I’m the inevitable parting of our ways
The delicious Billie must resume her Holiday.