A curious room
Filled will techno-pop lovers
On a funky track
music
Like Cherry Pie
i find places…different spaces…
tied and tangled, knotted like my Nike laces
a village underground where the songs rarely shuffle…
lyrics sound quite the same to me
but the melody…
the tune, the acoustics still bring out
a heart-felt insanity…
new experiences…not all old…not at all subdued…
more unfiltered, more unglued
a little bit of beautiful, specks of crude
sweetened awareness, shaken
by a cold-blooded brute
and i laugh and i cry…at all the contradictions
and all of the deception
drink it all down
what is bitter now, soon tastes like cherry pie
Love It (Record Player)
I love it how you rub my hair.
Love it how you blow kisses in the air.
Slap me around. Throw me down.
I love how we play around
To the music and sound.
The treble. That bass.
I love that soothing pound.
Getting lost in you, and I clench my breath.
Letting go frightens me, and I silently detest.
Record player on repeat.
Bodies swaying to the sound track.
I take control of your hips.
You tease the steam down my pulsating back.
Pulling you in close. You whisper in my ear.
“You are not alone. I am here.”
Love Notes and Dirty Dishes 