it was before, my plus one of life,
fingers rotated, on the rotary dial,
calling lust for your innocence,
where the pure white rose blooms,
an attraction of café rose scents,
one of tom ford’s champagne perfumes,
leaving your petals on the ground,
a sin so fitting for eden,
“when’s the coronation? where’s my crown?”
for the king who conquered your garden,
it was on my, plus one of life,
my eyes met you, a lady of the night,
such beauty and mystique,
unpigmented, very scarlet,
could make a dumb man speak,
for one who is a harlot,
came behind you and touched – ,
a foreshadow of our clutched,
large and small hands on the streets,
and our bodies in stained sheets,
it was after, my plus one of life,
shrill tones heard, similar to a fife,
as i plant amaryllis on your neck,
trumpet-shaped from my urea covered lips,
said something loving a memory of the xx,
to create the mark of an eclipse,
on your sweet-tasting chocolate skin,
our wall destruction symbol in berlin,
when east and west did collide,
birthing existence to what would be alive,
this is now, this is not child’s play,
let’s remember, this *armistice day,
things worth our dripping sweat,
a beautiful sign of the times,
oh, baby let’s not forget,
like a new day to a sunrise,
rays revealing what we were exploring,
when we wake up the next morning,
with our naked bodies entangled,
unification of a never-dying candle.
*this is in no relation to armistice day observed today
faceless mask 