"Noir"
She was the kind of strange
that made normalcy nonexistent.
Persist and you'll rue the day.
She threw the rules away.
Everything to say
contradicted me implicitly.
Complicity is not my nature
but it's not like I'm doing favors.
In her mystique I toil and labor
learning foreign nomenclature
that I may never use again.
Befriended her in my past life.
Fast life.
Whiskey in tall bottles wrapped in towels.
How the bowels of the city
remain dank and morbid
on the days she wouldn't tour it.
Poured Bourbon from my flask.
Spilled a little on her thighs.
Didn't even have to ask.
She'd just look into my eyes
and let me get to work.
Mini skirt an open invitation
to the brand of desire
that multitudes or whole nations
likely killed each other for.
Every store had a receipt to claim.
Most of them in my name
unless she felt that twinge of guilt.
Lust is how our house was built
but that rose would never wilt
that I gave her a week before Winter.
Dinner was another daunting task.
Beginner's luck would fade as fast
as the tip money that lined my pockets.
I found myself back then
tied to this same rocket
but she's not here to light the fuse.
She is the reason why
I don't really watch the news.
Confused with each report that surfaced.
I grow just as nervous
as I draw closer to the truth.
Could've chosen me to shoot instead.
The lights were dim.
The streets were hazy.
A scene so grim as this lady
laying lifeless on the pavement.
She would tell me:
"Save wit for the unintelligent."
It always gave me fits
because she thought I had an angle.
She likely never realized
how willingly I would dangle
from the tips of her manipulative means.
She haunts my dreams
with an overload of fantasies
I've presumed locked away forever.
Acts that I would never
even ponder in a public setting.
She's clearly worth forgetting
for the sake of sanity
but my love for her is unrelenting.
Maybe that's my vanity.
She saw love
as the greatest,
most decadent,
refreshing,
decrepit,
despondent,
fruitless weakness
that a man could ever show
or a woman could ever ask for.
My heart would beat my pants
to the floor when she'd say that.
She knew what made me angry.
Same things that drove me crazy
to the point where
I wanted so much more of it.
To forfeit in many ways is cowardice
but I found bliss when she took the lead.
Of any seed ever planted
in this stirring mind of mine,
hers was the darkest enchantment
that has stood the test of time
to this very day.
I eventually threw the bottles away.
Kept the towels they were wrapped in.
Pure and soft like satin.
Often took me back to a time
when white and black
was all the color needed
to appreciate the finer things in life.
Before I found her black heart,
I was privy to skin that flowed
across my fingertips like raw milk:
fresh and moist without blemish.
Diminished over time were the chances.
Slowly replaced with mere glances
until I'd get to touch her again.
Closest I've come to having a friend.
Never knew a more powerful lover.
She never met my mother.
Wouldn't bring her around my brothers.
Like no other,
she was dear to me.
Sweetest symphony
playing in the heart
of a man recalling the fondest part
of his one connection
with this world of twisted dreams.
Yes:
Love ain't always what it seems
but this life is in
no position to tell me better.
I'll never forget her.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
She was the kind of strange
that made normalcy nonexistent.
Persist and you'll rue the day.
She threw the rules away.
Everything to say
contradicted me implicitly.
Complicity is not my nature
but it's not like I'm doing favors.
In her mystique I toil and labor
learning foreign nomenclature
that I may never use again.
Befriended her in my past life.
Fast life.
Whiskey in tall bottles wrapped in towels.
How the bowels of the city
remain dank and morbid
on the days she wouldn't tour it.
Poured Bourbon from my flask.
Spilled a little on her thighs.
Didn't even have to ask.
She'd just look into my eyes
and let me get to work.
Mini skirt an open invitation
to the brand of desire
that multitudes or whole nations
likely killed each other for.
Every store had a receipt to claim.
Most of them in my name
unless she felt that twinge of guilt.
Lust is how our house was built
but that rose would never wilt
that I gave her a week before Winter.
Dinner was another daunting task.
Beginner's luck would fade as fast
as the tip money that lined my pockets.
I found myself back then
tied to this same rocket
but she's not here to light the fuse.
She is the reason why
I don't really watch the news.
Confused with each report that surfaced.
I grow just as nervous
as I draw closer to the truth.
Could've chosen me to shoot instead.
The lights were dim.
The streets were hazy.
A scene so grim as this lady
laying lifeless on the pavement.
She would tell me:
"Save wit for the unintelligent."
It always gave me fits
because she thought I had an angle.
She likely never realized
how willingly I would dangle
from the tips of her manipulative means.
She haunts my dreams
with an overload of fantasies
I've presumed locked away forever.
Acts that I would never
even ponder in a public setting.
She's clearly worth forgetting
for the sake of sanity
but my love for her is unrelenting.
Maybe that's my vanity.
She saw love
as the greatest,
most decadent,
refreshing,
decrepit,
despondent,
fruitless weakness
that a man could ever show
or a woman could ever ask for.
My heart would beat my pants
to the floor when she'd say that.
She knew what made me angry.
Same things that drove me crazy
to the point where
I wanted so much more of it.
To forfeit in many ways is cowardice
but I found bliss when she took the lead.
Of any seed ever planted
in this stirring mind of mine,
hers was the darkest enchantment
that has stood the test of time
to this very day.
I eventually threw the bottles away.
Kept the towels they were wrapped in.
Pure and soft like satin.
Often took me back to a time
when white and black
was all the color needed
to appreciate the finer things in life.
Before I found her black heart,
I was privy to skin that flowed
across my fingertips like raw milk:
fresh and moist without blemish.
Diminished over time were the chances.
Slowly replaced with mere glances
until I'd get to touch her again.
Closest I've come to having a friend.
Never knew a more powerful lover.
She never met my mother.
Wouldn't bring her around my brothers.
Like no other,
she was dear to me.
Sweetest symphony
playing in the heart
of a man recalling the fondest part
of his one connection
with this world of twisted dreams.
Yes:
Love ain't always what it seems
but this life is in
no position to tell me better.
I'll never forget her.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
