The damns and the foolish.
The Damns and the Foolish
The ways and means committee at the local Tavern sit together in an oasis of gin and whiskey.
Talk of torrid and tarnish love leave us in the sacrament state of loneliness.
I join the group of the damns and foolish after a blue Eyes temptress seduced me with treats of warm kisses and splendor of passion.
She left me with a sweet kisses and a long embrace. She whispered “Never love a woman with her emotion and heart dead and buried.”
When I met her at a poetry reading. She worn a talon of a dead animal.
Her icy and impotent blue eyes left me in a lapse of a placid and upcoming pitfalls.
She told me I was handsome. She whispered “I want a savior.”
Her sultry and pre-or-dain lies and stories open up a un-easy and disturbing paradox.
That open and led me into a wishful and tranquil will to love her.
Her flowing red hair and long legs intrigue me to try to tame her. To create a union of two torrid souls.
She told me “I’m permanent scars and tarnished.” Her tattoos body was a map of a journey. She looked to the moon and sky. Whispered “Pardon me for not allowing anyone to perpetrate my harden soul.”
I told her. “In the solitude of a vortex. We need to expose our souls and dreams.”
Her eyes burn me with anger. She yelled “I’m shrouded in hate.
Never will risk shades of love to open my heart to love again.”
I accepted her. Learning every part of her beautiful body. Listen to the story of every tattoo.
I never exposed my true feeling to her.
We dance in a raw, risky and a salvage love. We scheme great journeys and dreams of great victories.
On a cold Winter morning. She whispered ” I must depart.” She was leaving in the morning sun.
I told her. “I knew the prelude to a sad story.”
I brought her close. I whispered ” I will be here for you when you become lost. And need the mercy of a friend.”
Now I sit with the men and woman at the local Tavern.
I describe a portrait of a wounded Angel.