She sings to soundless shadows 

. .  prays with a broken halo 

I should probably leave 

but a buried love song plays in my  dizzy head 

 . . . a  running needle follows the groove 

Beauty

. . . plays tricks on me in the sunlight 

She’s crazy about lucid dreams 

. . . listens carefully to the pitch of rain 

. . . open to persuasion 

I should probably leave 

but her tender miracles need wings to fly   

She sings to soundless shadows 

. . . prays with a broken halo 

. . . purple pilot in the sky 

walking on a delicate moon 

Shea butter baby kisses me blind 

a thousand times before noon

like Sunday morning black keys 

. . . belladonna sunrise 

I come up for air 

as she rivers her precious colors 

. . . painting my paper truth 

without confines 

. . . open to persuasion 

. . . walking on a delicate moon 

she sings to soundless shadows 

. . . prays with a broken halo 

I should probably leave 

but her tender miracles need wings to fly