I ache in passion's hands,
Stolen by the anxious tantrum's of colourful days.
Wistful in mercy's sweet decadance,
I'm left to transpire with crimson's soft melodramatics.
Acrobat angels swinging on crucifixes fire,
Cobwebs that linger in tasteless clouds
Encircle perfect smoke that blinds the very innocence of phantom's remorse;
Pardon the songstress while she weeps infinity.
I've become her solace,
Tracing echoes across her soul,
A fingertip party that always comes through.
Elegance tangled in seduction,
She bleeds through epic tales,
Solitary in her energy,
I could not erase her.
©Ashley Leslie 2013
