By the Sea Shore

She sells sea shells by the sea shore
But if she had me we’d buy the sea shore
She sells the sea’s shells cuz her heart screams torn
But who can she tell- we don’t listen to the sea no mo’

I see this girl every day, lookin the same in every way. My eyes stray behind her waist, but my heart’s drawn unto her face. A face with beautiful, sunset eyes that have never seen the moon. Never, seen the night through to the cleanliness spawned of the dawn. Never- and so she regards herself as a shadow of the night. Mrs. Less-Than-Perfect who dare not raise eyes above surface to lock vision with Mr. Right, she cheats her life by not answering as a child of light…

And it is for this very reason that I cannot get in. I don’t know what it is, but when I see her by the sea I just have a passion for her to live.  Girl please put down these shells, so you don’t block Heaven’s Cupid…

I love you.  More than you will ever know.  More than you can likely handle in this instant like a pot of oatmeal, but you’re the real deal- a big deal in my world.  I see past the sea and the shells you sling- right into your inmost being.  The precious heart of a small girl, who yearns to be a princess… somebody’s Queen, somebody’s pearl.

Well let me introduce myself. You can call me Somebody.  Somebody who’s been watchin. Somebody who’s been prayin. Somebody who’s somehow fallen in love with you and has been patiently waiting.

One day you will see that you don’t have to sell sea shells by the sea shore anymore.

And on that day, there I shall be- on bended knee offering you the keys to a plain looking door that leads to SO much more.

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Sweet Mystery

 

Sweet.

You’re beautiful. Angelic. Inspiring. Living, breathing poetry beyond all of my writing…

Mystery.

Thoughts out, but heart hidden. Conversational, but with your own mission.

Sweet mystery.

That’s exactly what you are to me.  I’ve become a student of those pupils peeking out from behind the veil that separates the two of us.  There’s a truth in us- true beauty no lust.  But I swore off the romance til I could live the book of Romans… waiting on Heavenly timing, but the clock hands seem paralyzed.  Pair of lives.  All good things come in twos.  The best friend I ever did have, but should I say so it is you I might lose…

My sweet mystery.

Well, not mine per se, but I associate all tasteful things with soulful gravity placing them neatly around me.  But listen… this is night fall, and I don’t wanna see your knight fall- I don’t know if it’s my banner, take a gander, cuz just possibly… it’s me that you were looking for.  But night falls bring sun rise, and lucky me, I’m a son of God. This letter is for you- not for everybody.  But close your eyes when you read it, lest you tell somebody…

People listen,

I’m enticed- by her mystery, an addict like doin mathematics on caffeinated energy.  My vision is prismatic- I see multi-dimensional things.  An asthmatic for ordinary tactics, the mundane is toxic gas and it just stops up my breathing.  I’m willing, to believe that you’re not the only mystery.  That deep inside this home is a Holmes for soul deciphering.  To bring hearts out to the light to breathe.  She’s clinging to that word she got, but I’m her whole vocabulary…

Not braggin. Not boastin. Just sayin and hopin. That maybe the picture of God’s promises are painted in slow motion, and His brush of choice is patience just to get you where you’re going… The word can stay the same, while manifestation embraces change.

Penny for your thoughts…

Nevertheless, you’re ever the best, and with this last letter I put it to rest… No need to freeze, or panic, or stress- what has been decreed needs no further digress… Lest go further I press, and share what is left… This bundled package of “hm” perched here on my chest…

But no- you’re not the only enigma around town.

In this vibrant, exciting land of you and me, sweet mysteries abound.

Cover Up Girl

This is to my cover up girl…

To my queen in the long dresses, real smile, and real hair.  She is a maze of amazing qualities calling my name from higher up.  In order to even capture her gaze in her capturing essence I must go higher up.  I cannot simply look up, but stand down, no- I must rise like dark night to dawn, touch my feet to clouds and stand. My. Ground.

My cover up girl isn’t like all the rest. She’s got class like Mrs. Cleaver, but yall just leave it to cleavage and though I blink when I see it, I already know… on the echelon pole of women with angelic glow she’s a rose on top while yall just battle for the bottom post.  My cover up girl is a secret like your deepest woes, but she wields joy in spades because her heart’s in the right place.

I never met a girl I didn’t want to holla at until I met her… Nor yet since. It’s nonsense to think another girl exists with her sense…  Never met a girl who I didn’t take at least ten seconds imagining what it might be like getting up under her skirt- caressing her face until my finger tips danced romantilustfully down her shirt so we could do the tango and end up… tangled.

My cover up girl gives me nothing to work with save the work I put in listening and trying to sound intelligent. Sure sexiness and crude humor loom under the sailing moon of our conversations, but for once… I don’t want it.  I don’t want the cart before the horse, the sweets before the main course, and what’s blowing my mind is, the depth of this friendship is making her more attractive than any girl I’ve touched or fantasized about before!

Good Lord!

It must be pig flyin season…

This is to my cover up girl.

For takin pride in this time between being invisible and seen… It calls out the man in me.

This is to my cover up girl who does not even know I admire her so…

Your wrap of choice is the jeweled gates of Heaven and even if nobody else believes it… I know.

Thank you… my cover up girl.

Baby

I just wanted to let you know that though I think you’re amazing, you should be aware that I’m crazy.  Take a little dash of euphoria and dip it into a wild river of the untamed and what shall arise is a crystallized diamond bearing my name.

I fancy you as my fancy, and the way you twitch those thighs when you move has me believing you would like… to be… my muse…

But I need more than a princess- angelic beauty beyond a queen.  I need a warrior- a lady with an edge.  The highest royalty bearing the soul robes of convicted bandits.  I will give you my strength- the full measure of every tenth, and all I ask is that you take it.  Receive my unbridled nature as satiation in return for the purest essence of your inspiration…

In my head there are no maybes.  For you I would give anything… except my heart.  I will not forsake my greatest gain of self, to gain self expressed solely through you.  I am knight.  Fighter.  King.  Champion.  For you I will be all these things and more, and yet should against my heart you make war to you I will be nothing.

A faint vapor sailing away upon a misty night’s wind…

Will you receive what I’m offering?  You’ve startled me and caused me to see flashes of Heaven’s sunrise in the eyes of your life like white lightning, and I know I can only be better with you by my side…

But understand my love- I am a man.  I was stitched together in unrest, and born… on the wild side.

Will you be my baby?

Still Got It

The way those hips twitch like rhythmic grass blades dancing to Jamaican drums.  More than just runs for fun the sun runs closer to just place its warmth in your arms.

Now you are the light.

You think them babies made you look old, but baby you slayed the last dragon and you got that glow! Makes the 18 years olds wanna holla and the rest of us plan to propose! You should know that when you think nobody’s watchin is when the tick tockin of your body has captured the gaze of the whole globe.

You’ve still got it.

That fire. That magic. That eye contact so electric. Whether or not you make it to the salon you’re on like your favorite tv show, and we breathe your class like oxygen. Men, everywhere, are tunin up to tune in because it’s senseless to approach a gem with an unappreciative hand… or heart.  Tough enough to keep yourself intact, but cherished so much they can’t rush for they might accidentally tear you apart.

He wants to be the shoulder you cry on – not the cold shoulder you cry over.

Yes- HE.

The mysteriously specific king looking to crown the queen who already is. 

Attractiveness? You got that.

Charm? Without a doubt.

Sexy? Not even a question (but yes in every language if you still insist on askin).

You’ve got class, swag, and beauty and truly the groom he will duly make you his “yours truly” not from the logic of a good move, but from loving, passionate duty.

When you walk? Your pricelessness makes the price less on every priceless price list… YOU are the prototype woman- every gem that you see flashin was fashioned after you.  From your intellect, to your sarcasm, down to the way you move… Love arrows mean nothing because Cupid learns from you!

So never doubt. Release that smile and shake that hair. Strut your stuff and live in confidence- the competition can take a chair. Sit em down, and school em for a minute… They want it- you flaunt it.

You’ve still got it;-)