This was supposed to be romantic…
Angel at my club
I used to think,
I knew I had no heart long broken
by one I called Rita or was it Amanda
I remind myself to forget.
Then, you walked in.
Shakespeare in a thousand words for a million years could never describe your cherubic beauty
Picasso would lose his fame in a painting of you
Monet would utterly fail.
Mozart would never compose anything as sweet and rich as the sound of your voice
Your eyes are dark like opals
The music of your laughter leaves me dazed
I feel a hammering in my chest as you place your delicate hand in mine…
They say I’m ruthless
A panther on the prowl
As I shake your hand I can’t remember my name.