Forbidden Love

December 2, 2007 § Leave a comment

“No matter how he tried he could not break free.” – Pink Floyd


Caught standing in a smoke-filled room.
A drummer gets ready for swift death.
I took one slow moving breath.
The first warhead opened its heavy perfume.
He hissed and came closer with flames.
Slowly burning, he rose under my feet.
So sensitive, loving and caring, concrete,
Reality was rumbling the floor of shames.
His hands made me speak secrets, sadden spirit.
Leaves his hand to make love under the moon-
He lies to people about what he does in every room.
He is a lord of tactics, a champ who will dispirit.
Nobody he knows grows numb from the front down…
Only I noticed changes in his rhythm, still businesslike.
The drummer likes to be liked, a leech to your psych.

For long hours in the night, I had no contact cross-town.
The mornings thereof he would slowly depart-
Those feelings of guilt, he was so slumberous sweet.
My love stroked my skin under a red satin sheet.
Dancing with hands, he played songs from the heart.
The golden triangles in my ear-
Suddenly, built a mathematical equation-
Sound the colors of love, a blind formation.
Make one from one and one clear.

The drummer shouts the invincible on top of me.
He looks in the mirror and looks great.
When it comes to eating he’d rather wait.
For he is aroused once again, glee and free.
His temperature rises and he’s feeling almost dizzy.
I felt his heart race and his heat.
His attacks of anxiety occur on a one-way street.
Swept in crystalline dust, he is far too busy.
Sadly, he is sharing nothing that’s real.
Promises he could never keep.
The consequences of his actions roll skin-deep.
In the city, he tries more bitter candy to heal.
Now, my God has turned this face to the light.
I see painted sacred symbols incised with demons faces.
In the mirror of the miraculous three Graces,
He keeps drumming in hopes to reunite.

Cutting all five fingers of his hardened hand,
A one-carat diamond fades in a ring of snow,
Sensitive skin draws pain from one big blow,
My lover lives in wonder, fantasy, and wasteland.
Who am I? I am the drum, the woman of his dreams.
He cannot see me because he can no longer sleep.
Flashes of changes, no dreams, he prays his soul to keep.
Joins the trembling teams-
Alone, I stand in the middle of one last fight.
To survive, I must wait in unsynchronized silence.
I hear one heartbeat, the dance suspense.
My love continues after his affair with Lady White.


© Sonya Rose

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