Jazz in a smoke filled room,
outrageous scenes all around but your eyes are fixed up ahead.
A chanteuse is on the stage and on your mind,
naively nodding to her own beat,
nobody on her lips but you,
asking you to join her in a dream.
Can you take a chance?
Hold out your hands and ask them if they’re ready to make a wish.
Everyone deserves to be adored,
rabid in their desire,
rolling eyes and trembling lips.
You’re not sure you can resist, and yet…
over ten minutes ago at least,
vanishing was your master plan,
except now, you’re paralysed, rolling eyes, trembling lips,
singing along with your sixty minute woman.
All that remains is to allow yourself all that she can give.
Something about it is dangerous, delicious and determined to damn you to hell…
Hell, it doesn’t matter, it’s just a place.
Last night has become this morning,
indecision becomes stalling…
Honestly, you’re a gift from God, and she’s way overdue a spoiling.
Of course, you could leave,
leaving yourself to wonder “what if?”,
learning little of the love that could be,
if only you’d climb the stairs of the stage, like you used to climb trees,
stare into the eyes of your siren,
tempted and tricked in the most troubling, gratifying way.
Eventually, it will all be up to you,
resist if you want… but that’s no fun.