Pick out a pretty colour,
paint my nails while I’m docile,
Aphrodite whispers up above us,
erstwhile lovers,
that became something more.
My soul is yours,
reborn in the July sun,
when it set,
resetting me,
pulling me from the purified dirt,
sleeping until it was safe,
onwards,
to September,
when you crossed my path,
and I wasn’t lost anymore.
You could ask anything of me,
and I would relent,
repenting in your shadow.
Living is so easy,
if you let it be,
and I’m letting it.
Little mermaid,
swimming away, smiling,
no longer a prisoner of the typhoon of tears,
that was once my captor.
They call me the Siren of Soho,
talking soft,
seductive,
like I do to my late night listeners,
reciting lines about your blue eyes,
how they follow me to my midnight misadventures,
making me crazy,
crying, contented,
waking up,
stepping into another dream,
with you.
