nostalgia-soaked velvet skin,
drenched in the rain’s graying melodies,
cradle the wind’s dulcet lyrics,
delicate in dips and depressions.
dripping from half-closed lips,
ambrosia envenoms words that are
lost to the raindrops’ slip and shatter
upon the rain-painted pavement.
intent, lost in torpid quick-paced days,
is strung in a series of deceitful gestures,
impeccably performed on the stage of passion,
fleeting game, and feigned interest.