What a funny valentine to behold.
Determined to end flawlessly for muse,
every gesture gave like evening sunlight.
Daisy fell to her grave vice of black pleasure.
It was all mind roulette and lizard bones.
Her love touched pink in all his right places.
She never knew what to make of God's heart.
It hadn't seemed so far away like soundless dreams.
Off, onto lost back roads they went by night,
racing black's yellow moon for time and stars,
listening to thoughts shrouded by cloud nine
and desperate for velvety pillow talk.
Billy, in E minor, tuned strings for play.
Madam Grace will take center page to dance.
