The black roses
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Cynthia, eyes of stone with a cigarette in mouth. Whiskey breathe woman, looked me up and down, like a place of mystery. She asked me, what did you need soldier?
I smiled at her. When I looked at her, I saw poisonous snake and dangerous curves. I handed her a dozen black roses and a bottle of Black Velvet whiskey. I told her. Your heart is black as the night, your kiss was addicting and so damn sweet. Your lips, sweeter than the Fall Michigan honey.
She smiled at me and she whispered. Love is folly and sin, rarely pure and fine. Sacred and mystical places for kindred spirits. You and I, we are haste and waste. We love the whiskey more than love. We look for escape before we try to find the mercy of love. Fools are fools always, wanting little, stealing what they can.
She held the black roses, she held the Black velvet whiskey and she asked. Can you dance Soldier? The kind gifts I do appreciate. The night is long and you and I. Destine to open door of some pain and some misery.