where the writers are
A Messy Face and a Wasted Dream
Sephia cafe

Woke up this morning

8am this morning cut on the TV

Nothing was really that funny

Then I smelt it!

 

I was a beautiful butterscotch smell

A gift tart tantalizing

The meagerness of a strong man

She had hips that can keep an old man

 

Off balance for days

A silken gown seeping out of her pores

Blanketing goose bumps

She had this peach I wanted pluck

 

Had my feel of punching plums

Can't deny it was a sweet thing every blow

Barely see the childhood scars anymore

You never miss them because you see them everyday

 

How a man can become so familiar with a woman

Make him forget about his morning coffee

Order something different on the menu that day

Smells still stained on him after 3 showers

 

Distinct is the place we go together

Touching that intricate thing simultaneously

Premeditations of the thing is no doubt a phenomenon

Chemistry alone and living beauty ultimately appreciated rightly

 

Handled the ultimate way securing a wet pillow

We never drown into the night

We climb the highest peaks in Tim boots

I'd climb it barefooted to reach it with you again

 

Night time and frost gathers on the outside of windows

Mild precipitations erecting on the inside

Gathering good things around my mouth

Reminding me of not so immaculate journeys

 

Were the rugged meets the smooth

The caramel and chocolate meets the mood

Whip creams reminding me of dreams

Honey coated secrets I never told you about

© 2008 Water Blakmon