like juicy thirds on boring randy nights
are the bane of regrets.
Excerpts of happy endings and
princesses and princes and castles and runes.
Time forgets and heals and
and steal breaths of passion and
sweet nothings of dreams.
Till I awake from slumber.
Eighteen lost and signs and wonders
rendered me ready and okay
to traverse through time and
become wife to a concept undefined,
slave to a premise of legend,
master to a heart that wouldn’t listen and
I’d pump right into the will of a merciless drop
through opportunity’s open door.
Be Kind and Share…