A Fairy Tale Incomplete

I met her a day many Mays ago,

Storybook in structure yet storyboard in form,

Inkless pages from a fruitless vine,

She was flesh, she was pulp,

Sticky sweet, endorphins releasing tastefully,

A delicate recipe, with ingredients defining delicacy,

No brushstrokes necessary, this image solves the easel

Natural shades and brilliant tones,

 Heart rates spike peering each trace the prisms spawn,

So subtle the hue one barely takes the time,

To pause would be to ingest,

 The rhythmic flavor the artist so designed,

Like many others I feigned approach,

As confidence trembled from voice to throat,

 A citric splash philosophy soured any optimism,

Any chance, left hollow; betrayed of opportunity,

To allow a moment, an attempt at thoughtful unknotting,

I do not know what became of her,

Often I dream of what could have been,

Perhaps someday, some other time,

I’d like to pretend that chance I’ll one day get,

I like to think she too regrets our time not spent

The Passion Of A Stolen Kiss

Five past the cauldron’s boil,

Through curdled clouds on an onyx canvass colored sky,

Spy I might with but one eye closed,

The smell of charcoal, the sense of fear,

But it’s through my fingers that which should not be witnessed is revealed,

Dreams awakened through rudimentary means,

The sort forced upon us at an early age,

It’s ten past consumptions point and a decision must be made,

Wicked brew comingling from tongue to belly,

Seconds flat to feel its crude, yet wonderfully subtle snake-like smile,

A charming upon the inner child,

Smart and shiny, crumpled in a tiny ball,

Over the shoulder, the shawl I throw,

Out with the darkness and above goes the cold and snow,

Shackles unbound, tonight we fly,

 Free as gypsies, empowered like thieves,

Travel we will, in caravan, over the plains of time,

Unfettered wishes abound this eve,

Through the stars and over the trees,

The glimmer in the corner of that woman’s eye,

Deliberate yet charming, a magnification of someone mesmerized,

As thunder meets lightning, that initial time, a passionate roar of the wild roaming lion,

Mane freely flowing as its pride evades, a coveting swarm of enamored bees,

Territorially, tonight we claim, that song, playing over moonlight, in the midnight breeze.