She speaks in a rhyme,
one that I fail to fathom
Shaking and twirling,
curly long hair,
falling all over her face
Madness drips
from her every little atom
Whispers to me,
sweet nothings
I surrender, to her,
I am doomed
Tonight or tomorrow,
i don’t but foresee
She screws with my head
Sweet dopamine,
the bastard,
loose it breaks, joy aside,
My heart, as good as dead
My wandering soul,
it flounders, for
her silken touch
and that naughty little mole
I want more,
my heart aches
He has found a pearl,
amidst a stack of fakes
Sitting across,
Her smile, it flows
like constant dose
Of sugar, to coffee
Only sweeter, it goes..
I watch, candidly
let her love unfurl
Adding soul to my tea
My lovely,
‘Cinnamon Girl’