The Song of the Senses

The swirls of colours, the taste of valour,

The pale pallor of your face, blood red lips;

The feel of stardust upon my cold skin,

The lash of the wind like a wakeup call -

The opening of hazel eyes to the reality,

The hazey tantamount of fogged fantasies.

The deafening silence in the basement,

The shadows dancing beneath the streetlamps,

The kaleidescope of nothingness,

The chase for romance in the woods,

The pursuit of the storm's directions,

The enchantment that sought to haunt.

The touch was soft, cold, like falling snow,

The moon was held by a thin line in the sky-

The dream was for it to fall unto my bosom;

The awakening was a nasty hangover,

The pain was sharper than witches' claws;
The gnashes were darker than streams of blood.

The line separating the horizon was gone - 

The sun plunged right into the swaying waves;

The soft clinks of glasses being toasted,

The shattered smash of mirrors in the distance,

The murmurings of the leaves in the winds,

The singsong howl of wolves deep into the night.

The smile that broke into the gloom,

The torches of dawn coming to the rescue;

The gentle tears of heavens pelting the soul,

The first kiss that got past the heartbeat's skip,

The soft landing of the dream upon the land,

The stripping of the sensations so surreal....

Leaving no trails once they pass, like mortals,

Engaging the senses at their whim and fancy.

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