Lil's Paradise

A smoke shade ruby lamp is the essence of your
hair
eyes
lips and breath that exhales
exhales
inhales

your lover is a nightingale foot print, of its
coo
feathers
glassy eyes

a perfect thought, once told me of what it meant to be your shadow.
If your smoldering lipstick
� and ghetto-laced style of
walking
talking
loving
is any more then what could be expected
I think I'll throw down our instruction manuals
of life
art
and all the inbetween that went down

dearly departed, like that roy ayers song, she's gotta find a lover
� blinking orange-yellow christmas lights of misguided lust,
strung and wrapped around the place like [insert simile here].

I know I heard her cry before. I know I heard the satin sheet swish
as you fell over top it.
if it was you,
would you think differently-
then again,
I knew she probably wouldn't.

to rebuild your wooden jaw- those horses stealing into my city,
� those words slipping out under the cover of night-
� will only make me want to burn you back down
into ashes
smoking boots
smoldering ruby lamp shades of aimless love, the 3am breakfasts, and of time
time
and more time on your hands
then could possibly be good

for anyone
but you.