The Morning After
the trump and triumph, on my life
now returns to me, as ever it did fade
along the hours, moments, to the rooftops, i am
free
wasting away no man, am i, to life is bitter
spent
among the fashions and times, when the fury
compounded, winding to my end, a feet of no man
in silence, does cease, and slowly wither
inside his heart, and to the questions, merely
accused
does she even wonder, where i am tonight
speeding past daylight, the beauty of nightfall
her shades unfold, to a gaze, surrounding me in
skin
the memory at last, i see, in the wild
impression, her shape
does twist, from the blonde and blue, to the
hazel and browns
of curls unfolding, from the water spiraling,
downward fall, toward us now
are we locked in expression? the love as deep as
oceans new
where i am, myself, to be, much more than this
hollowed cove
of series and doubts, the light above now streaks
into my eyes
reminding me of color, reminds me of lies, when
no truth seemed, unreal
to me at last, i am found again, to live in
strength, bind not to temptation
hold, holding me now, in the world i am, in the
world i know
so, i must at last, reconcile all doubt, as she
would tempt me
as easily as before, the drug of choice inside
her eyes
a heavy concoction, bleeding my love, in passion
twisting
gripping me in sight, i am not more than an
addict here
in love's deeper spell, i am no more than a
slave, seeking her
in ways of my love's last, and only need