Is was your one night romance.
Someone you were supposed to leave behind.
Yet, one night turned into another and another…
until I was your first thought on cold and empty nights.
You keep me as a filler and, on occasion, a friend,
and I hope the back of your mind teems with the truth
that every attempt you make is only a filler for me.
You played me songs through virgin car stereos,
lyrics that captured your instant moment thoughts.
I remember them vaguely,
but am tattooed with the image of your starry eyes
dancing accomplished in the cool October air.
Could a library bursting with loving laments of John and Jack
ever find a perfect song for her,
or should I count myself among the exclusive?
Do you remember the taste of my kiss and is she anything compared to me?
Does she have traceable curves?
Can she steal your breath and close your eyes with a single caress?
Does she look at you like you’re the only man in the world
who could ever make her happy?
…The way I looked at you from across dim-lit bar rooms and movie theatres.
…They way I touched you with gentle but errant desire.
Stare me down through the vodka haze. Smile with telltale lips.
Remain unmoved, stubborn and unrelenting.
Strength radiates from every freckled pore as you let slip reality.
I know your each and every weakness.
Bouncing sways from my hips and a tongue across your bottom lip
turns you acquiescent in my hands.
You have taken what was offered.
Filled that empty spot with willing participants.
My final musing: Who has outlasted every last one?
Is the merging of our paths coincidence
or a happening weaved from fate?
You will never make me disappear until you let me go.
Keep me removed, but we both know my atmosphere will haunt you.
In your bed, across your floor, underneath your clothes,
deep in a secret corner of your soul.

 

Owl City will always be cute music. You can take Adam Young seriously, but, at the same time, you can’t. There is a clear message in all of his songs, yet, it can get so mixed up in insanely combined metaphors and imagery. I love it. Most of my poems are like that. Sometimes the point gets lost in fancy words and phrases.
Anyway, this week’s outfit is inspired by “If Your Heart Was a House” by Owl City. This is one of the sweetest and most romantic songs ever. Had to make the ensemble wistful and dreamy so it would go along with the song.  Success? 

The writer in me cannot explain just how awesome these are.

He gazes over me…face serene and mesmerized,
taking me in as if I’m intangible.
A heavenly body only viewed in telescopic lenses and brilliant photographs.
His breaths linger dangerously in his chest,
and I wish he would just breathe.
Offer an explanation for his captivation.
I’d bestow an ocean of pennies for his thoughts.
He confesses I inspire him.
A muse in the most elaborately romantic way.
A body poised for sculpting hands.
A voice composed in arias.
Illuminating a smile in pigments and brush strokes.
He is a true artist in creating me timeless, beautiful and awe-inspiring.
I hunger for him like a wanton reader, and he studies me as an author.
His charcoal eyes pen the novel of our obsession,
keeping the cursive words locked tight in that resplendent, intriguing mind.
I cannot understand him.
So I wrap my yearning arms around him,
in place of wrapping him in my comprehension.
His eyes sparkle snow-fallen silver with abounding desire.
He touches hesitantly, conjuring goosebumps out of porcelain skin.
My reflection in his vision is too perfect for reality.
My still beating heart wonders what he sees that I don’t.
While his heart beats the music of our enchantment,
I invite him closer with soft petal lips,
hoping I never lose this siren song he cannot resist.

Oh. My. Gosh. My inner child wants every single one of these dresses.
It’s morphin’ time! 

If you could peer into my head…
see every reality, every secret,
every corner that harbors thoughts fit for dirty and criminal back alley deeds…
would you still look at me the same way?
View me innocent, kind, loyal and beautiful…
or would that beauty melt into a used, lying, under-handed, deceptive harlot
teasing and tempting the burning fire of total destruction?
I hope for the first but expect the latter.
I’ve made my bed and I have been forced to lay in it…
multiple times, a cycle of personalities…
yet, the sheets only seem to twist tighter.
The unrelenting pressure is discomfortingly reminiscent
of the control I forsook when I allowed them free reign,
passage and the opportunity to walk all over my morality.
You cannot get angry with the guest you invited in with open, wanting arms.
My wedding band has played hide and seek for years as punishment for my sins.
I tainted restraint, relationships and trust;
what makes me think I deserve such a beautiful pardon?
My selfish mind jumps in defense to blame anyone else for my falls,
but I so stubbornly wouldn’t even let them pick me back up.
Free from watchful eyes, I will act on impulse, as I wish, never-minding consequence.
Shower my facade with gentle words and I will silently block them with reality.
Accepting – judgmental. Beautiful – evil. Self-sacrificing – possessive.
Chaste – easily corrupted. Honest – liar.
Down to earth – carefully hiding my inner mechanics.
If I say it, I don’t always mean it.
But, when I mean it, it’s a full-body, unchanging truth.
You could change me. I want to stop.
It’s not really who I am but what I’ve become.
Used, two-faced, aggressive and lost.
I yearn for that moment of decision :
left or right, yes or no, true or deceptive.
I enter with the best of intentions but leave, another ghost haunting these sadistic walls.
I was here. I will always be here.

Yes. Yes I want this.

As you can probably tell, I spend a better part of my day bored out of my mind. Enter random thoughts and lists that, really, have no business being made…except to cure my boredom. Anyway, I had such a geeky good time making playlists last time (a.k.a. grabbing catch association words), so I present you with another batch of them. Enjoy…? Maybe…?

The Beach Bum
~Umbrella Beach – Owl City
~You’re Crashing, But You’re No Wave – Fall Out Boy
~Tidal Wave – Owl City
~Brighter Than the Sun – Colbie Caillat
~Here Comes the Sun – The Beatles
~Pocketful of Sunshine – Natasha Bedingfield
~Praying for Sunny Days – Hyper Static Union
~Fistful of Sand – The Bravery

The Loser
~Loser – Beck
~Loser – 3 Doors Down
~3 Leaf Loser – 12 Stones
~Weird World – Backstreet Boys
~Geek in the Pink – Jason Mraz
(See? Not even cool enough to get a full playlist) 

The Musician
~The Music of the Night – Phantom of the Opera
~Sing – Travis
~Sing For Me – Yellowcard
~Voices – Chris Young
~Love Song – Sara Bareilles
~You Make Me Sing – Jimmy Needham
~Bang the Doldrums – Fall Out Boy (Haha…get it? Drums..?)
~The Piano Knows Something I Don’t Know – Panic! At The Disco

The Gold Digger
~Golden Train – Justin Nozuka
~Silence is Golden – Blake Lewis
~Silver and Cold – AFI
~Can’t Buy Me Love – The Beatles
~Pearl – Katy Perry
~Her Diamonds – Rob Thomas

The Masochist
~Pain – Three Days Grace
~Send the Pain Below – Chevelle
~Violence – Blink 182
~Hurts Like Heaven – Coldplay
~Papercut – Linkin Park
~Scream – Avenged Sevenfold

The Gossip
~Dirty Little Secret – All American Rejects
~Secrets – Onerepublic
~Secret – Maroon 5
~Rumour Has It – Adele
~Jive Talkin’ – Bee Gees (Ha!)
~Talk – Coldplay

Blue eyes pierce my vision.
Their gaze is overbearing, calculated, but intrigued.
My defenses spring to life and cower in ultra sonic time.
I feel faint. I like it.
His hand slides across, intertwining long, knotted fingers.
The touch is so sweetly possessive,
I shouldn’t be aching for him to trace fingertips along other, less visible inches.
Yet, my soul is awake and my imagination alive.
He yearns to own me.
Brand my ivory skin with a strong upper hand.
His mark of seduction.
I don’t let him see my willingness.
Hear my deep, full body moans calling in shameful urgency.
My inner innocence longs to be dominated, restricted and tainted.
A heart’s harbored secrets.
Like Poe’s alarum bells, there is a frenzied ring in my subconscious.
Our silently shared desires are dark, twisted,
deeply mired in erotic trepidation.
I dangerously swoon at his tattletale gaze
sliding boldly along hidden curves beating over a frantic pulse.
Conquer me beneath blind stars.
In places far from the reach of judgmental eyes.
Where he can make me do everything he longs to experience
and I can be his acquiescent subject.
I can pretend to be hesitant.
Fight back against the pressure of his strong, flexing muscles.
I will keep it secret that it turns me on as much as it does him.
This game, these half-truths,
the subtle, yet, intense instance of sexual hide and seek. 
It’s enough to surge a body electric with forbidden desire.
The rapid rise and fall of my chest is climactic and magnetic to his sinful stare.
Urge a little bit harder and make me yours.

Oh dang, I want every little bit of this. I’d even take extra special care to make sure the staffs stayed on there as long as possible.