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.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 