Must be the coffee or something…
forcing myself to rest it out, a spare of a few winks but I just can’t help to
pull you off the hook.
It was on a sandy beach, as white
as the unstained cirrus clouds covering the glittering shorelines. The palm
trees painting the place a greener more, the blue waves shedding more sand as
it comes and go.
Control my imagination as I beg for my thought to stop thinking… to control the very thing I can feel, I’ve grown even wearier for every flashback you make me see.
It is not a crazed idea. I am not
disturbed. I just simply can’t get you off of my head. A tattooed painting
seared through my brain, never to be removed.
There you were, smiling all
bright. Thinly you may seem afar but you stood tall on your cargo shorts, a
white shirt inside, finishing your clad with a checkered polo that you always look
more handsome. Refined and delightful at the same time.
You wear that smile and
everything there comes a blackout of thoughts, you’re no more a dream longer
yearned. No more than a reality reached.
I’ll dance with you for a song
only we know of; I’ll play the sandy thoughts of my imagination and make the
spectacle of emotions I can create. A swirl of clouded romanticism.
I’d spare myself from total loss
of sanity. Without a doubt to write an indulgence so profound. Tell tales of
man demented of pent-up emotions.
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