A Marian Hill song and a poem- Whiskey.
With pen and paper I write, spilled blood upon notions of things wanted and so damn far away.
We secretly abated love and you became my wish to behold. I wanted you. To taste your lips like the Crown Royal whiskey. Slow and easy.
You called me honey, sweetie and dear. I called you my dark mistress, my haunting mademoiselle and endearing perfect beauty.
We pro-longed deep and long kisses. Knowing we treaded on quicksand where love could not grow.
My lovely Liz. I want us to run away and I want to know your secret places and learn glimpse of the storm you try to hold in. I see in your eyes. Tamed life starving for the midnight dance and I feel your longing for new places and someone to worship your face, your skin and your heart.
We danced once the deadly dance of free love and we exposed real skin and voice.
Sadly we accepted less dear Liz.
I pray you have escaped and find someone who loved you like the rising moon and the dawn sun. I pray you know laughter and you will dance the magic movement of where lovers. Know the wildness and freedom of hiding nothing and showing real skin and real face.