Posted in Blog

For It’s There That I Belong

Bewitched,

beautiful in a cool breeze,

the world is motionless and mute,

for a moment,

as you let me be Lydia,

breaking out of London,

nine of hearts…

Nine of hearts…

Nine of hearts…

I think,

when I don’t allow myself to think too much,

that you could be much more,

than I initially thought.

Long roads,

that lead us somewhere lush,

our Island’s own Las Vegas,

with glittering flowers,

that mimic the mania of the lights.

I am not a child,

anymore,

although,

some days,

it’s hard to tell,

but I tear myself from my mother’s white lace,

the protection of presumptions of my innocence,

and I stand before you,

darker from the way life has toyed with me,

but bewitched,

beautiful in a cool breeze,

promised to you,

just as I was,

in a dark car park,

at the advice of my cards,

when our lips fell in love,

for the first time.

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