As The Chariot arrives 
in the dead of the night,
clouded over eyes begin
to spit fire.
Clearly, chasing a lost cause;
pipe dreams.
This seems to be
a mislead fight-
for what is believed
to be right.
Taught his ways
by a wise, old liar.
For failure, deemed? 
So it seems.

Captivating kisses-
from wicked witches.
Don't beckon one as your Mrs.-
for your heart will be left in stitches.

The rays of a crescent moon
carefully caress the curvature 
of her. Reckless, as we are unfamiliar-
with one another. Inevitably.. Soon-
our bodies are conversing
with no need of an interpreter.
Slightly bewildered,
we cautiously proceed.
We were taking turns,
taking the lead.

Such a silly fool;            
fallen victim to being    
  embraced so gently.

What you want from life...
you don't know.
You tell me,
"We'll cross that bridge
  when the we meet the stream below."

The orange filter
fixed to my fingertips
grazed upon my lips before
falling down
             down
             down
when she shook those hips;
Lit a fire in the place..
Or maybe that was her.
She'll do whatever you prefer
until late hours.. &,
then she's gone
                         gone-
                                gone.

Inhale, exhale- stop.
Be still; hidden from the Hawk.
Talons pierce your top.