Lioness. Sleek and beautiful under the bright lights.
Oh that gaze, that penetrating gaze. I can't.
I can't look away from those eyes. Those eyes.
Those lovely smoldering charcoals are cooking.
Igniting my soul into a bubbling stew. A smile?
Behind those parting lips were the pearly gates of heaven.
Each tooth etched delicately by the gods.
Lioness, only love could have conceived you.
Admiration. Exuberance. Devotion. Care. Passion.
How could such beauty take a human form?
Redefinition, rewriting the chapters of history.
Behold, I have seen beauty. Ms. Lioness.
Afraid to make a bold decision.
Was it change? Was it commitment?
Desire fights the fear that keeps us idle.
Fear prevails, so you deal. Content with your surroundings.
Simultaneously, yearning for more than what's comfortable.
Fear of rejection. Fear of what might happen.
No way will you make yourself vulnerable.
Your comfort zone. Fortified soul and mind.
Keep your distance until the outcome is known.
By then, its too late. Your refusal to move is lost opportunity.
Fear and consequences fend off any desire,
To explore further into another's life. Concurrently,
Imaging yourself next to that particular person.
So restlessly we live, hoping, waiting to move.
I want to drown in an ocean of photographs.
The most peaceful death one can petition for.
One that everyone can witness and mourn.
Bereavement in my death to let those feel.
With a snap of the shutter, I can freeze time.
Take one glance in my time machine instantly.
Capturing one moment for an eternity.
Of music, joy, love, life more abundantly.
The magnitude of the multitude of majestic memories,
Times that knew I would need them again just to get through,
Because life is no surfin' movie or drive with the top down.
Just photographs telling the story of you.
Under lines of rusty buildings.
Our seasoned chucks along the pavement.
Talk of the past, present, and future.
Confessions of a loving heart, truth.
Window shopping, staring at murals.
Beautiful silence that sounded like a symphony.
The beat moved on itself, like we were sleeping awake.
And we awoke on the edge of winter.
The world was ours to conquer.
As if they were waiting for us to take it.