Flesh is alive, her burgeoning skin.
She smiles and waves, her dark moist hair,
Talent is simple, her looks allure,
Curtain of crimson, drunk to entice
Mincing in stilettos, hidden by the glass.
She stands in black, bride of her youth.
Her golden smile, a payment in kind,
The mirrors reflect each movement she makes,
Whore to the world, & giver to none.
Music blares out and the outside is closed.
Distress is a scheme given by the king,
Shaken and torn by the prostitution of love.
Perfect curves and fakery in eyes,
A stolen child with a broken lost past
No wonder the destination is fours on the floor.
Blood and sweat, tears and her lips,
All entwined in the flickering flash of a thought
A neon light, cold water and bath
Dreams of an angel scream in her angst
Forged identities shatter her past
Hidden in bedrooms, families forget,
Child in her twenties, allowed to neglect
Lolita in fantasy, rhythm shakes deep,
Man fills her full, hate waves convulse.
Her perfect tan opulent in lies,
A deceit screams out in her paid ecstasy
Outside by the church, god talks of sympathy
His flock walks by, a mitigated falsehood.
And the delusions begin, He sees HER face,
He runs to the woman, the child in her dress,
An angel in death who brings him relief.
He calls out her name and their kisses they play
He holds her so close & her body relaxed
She disappears in arms, a cloud of the past,
Present unformed, the future guaranteed,
She leaves & she smiles, a dreamer beyond,
I watch without words of content or of soul,
A mishmash of ideas whirl & they smoke
Chase the impossible or live with the evils that surround?
Kiss the untouchable who creates a smile, a girl who he loves?
Or hold onto empty moments in the arms of the dead?
Either leads to the grave…but which route to his death?
Insanity of the dead? Or the frustration of the living?
Choices we make, are no choices at all.
Just the capriciousness of God who stands there above all.
~ Beauty I saw, Beauty I met, Beauty I dreamt of, Beauty an illusion?
© Ed Simkins