Before I fall to sleep
and upon my waking glance
you are the image I see
which has me in a trance.
Such beauty you possess
and I know no other who can
capture my heart in an instant
and hold it for a lifespan.
© Autumn Siders 2016
Before I fall to sleep
and upon my waking glance
you are the image I see
which has me in a trance.
Such beauty you possess
and I know no other who can
capture my heart in an instant
and hold it for a lifespan.
With each moment that passes,
my heart becomes a little more yours
and our future unfolds before my eyes
with nothing but open doors.
Your past and mine exist
for only one reason and no more,
as they were the bumpy roads
that led to exactly what we waited for.
The buzzing of the needle
scares many away
but the thrill that it elicits
is not achieved another way.
The message that I’m making
lasts forever on my skin
and I’ll take it to my grave,
along with all my sins.
Plain black or even color too,
my skin, the empty canvas awaits
for the artist’s fine creation
and the pure joy it elates.
Snow falls from the sky,
silence blankets the cold ground,
rosy cheeks by fire.
In an old leather journal
dropped into salty waters
were the words that once conveyed
the feelings I had for you.
That washed out ink
and those soggy pages
still convey just that
from the depths of the ocean.
To my memories,
I sing along
and indeed, you
are my favorite song.
I’m only one scratch away
I’ll be there to make you pay
Lucifer got nothin’ on me
I’m only one scratch away.
–
You can’t feel your face when you’re with me
but you love it, but you love it,
You can’t feel your face when you’re with me
but you love it, but you love it.
–
I love eating feathers
in a beautiful world
and I know I am special
I’m so fuckin’ special
’cause I’m a cat, I’m a feline
what the hell are you doing here?
you don’t belong here.
–
Santa baby, slip a fishy under the tree, for me
I’ve been a good awful girl, Santa baby,
so hurry down the chimney tonight.
The vibrant colors of black & white
paint the portrait of an era
that faded into the dull colors
of today.
Each day free
is merely an added day
to my sentence of life
in this self-made prison
that holds me captive
and tortures my very soul
waiting for the moment I’ll break
so that the day
can start over again.
Each day forward
eerily resembles every day past.
Will tomorrow be today
or will yesterday outlast?