You look stunningly well, really well. He said
and the saga continued.
The old message is replayed and the hint of history appears.
Wisened hearts momentarily embrace
and spring apart like
until we’re just here
Words hide amongst words masquerading as
but with familiar undertones.
Flattery leads to Nowhere, a destination from before.
He delicately imprinted
his lips onto my
an indelible intimacy.
And ashamedly, I received
You looking stunningly well, really well. He said.
And it fell into space.
John from Blackbess St.Peter
owns this yellow bus we travel on,
a-sway on the West Coast road to the reggae tunes accented by the horn – our soundtrack.
as Tourist due to
my pale lover,
although my heart and soul beats
for this coral isle.