For anyone who has read my former poem ‘Untitled Beauty’, one would know that I based the piece upon a beautiful young woman who dressed up as Jedi Master Aayla Secura from the Star Wars universe for a ComicCon. I do not know her true identity, and I would really appreciate it if someone in the world could actually tell me such information…the link to the image and additional info on this topic can be found in the ‘end notes’ section of the original Untitled Beauty post which can be found at this link: http://wp.me/p24LWs-2H
This here is not a love poem – no, it is a poem of longing,
about hope, prayer, fantasy, discovering oneself and belonging,
which begins as every morning inevitably does. The light breaks through a moderate sized hole in the wall; the ominous ‘they’ call it a window,
but I call it a distraction, for it wakes me from my slumber where I dream I strike up a conversation with a rare beauty by saying ‘hello’,
rare beauty who is you. All the money in the world cannot buy me another minute in this fabulous fantasy,
where I kissed your sumptuously luscious and tender lips and you held onto my big, broad shoulders oh so delicately,
and I fear, the only way to experience this moment once again, is to physically find you and express
‘you are the only lover Untitled Beauty I have been frequently and hopelessly attempting to impress,
for you are the only young woman in all the world, if not the known universe I am constantly thinking of,
my sumptuously delightful lady of whom I hope to forever and always unconditionally love.
It is true, and it is a fact that I do not dare deny, that never have either of us yet met,
but even with that said, you are a young beauty I can never easily in all my years forget,
and if I am supposed to move on from this fantasy, where am I supposed to move on to?
for no one else in this great round world could ever tame this heart of mine for no one else is you.
Additionally, if I am supposed to move on, where am I supposed to go?
for you are the single greatest adventure of all time that I will ever know.
It is also true that I do not know your name, but, my darling, it is a two way street. You could ask ‘what name do you go by?’ and I’d reply ‘you may call me Naughty Nefarious’
and a giggle may suddenly spring forth from the corner of your mouth. I swear it is no joke, for a name is a name, and mine is mine, for my world becomes so much more delicious
the second I lay my eyes upon your pretty face. I feel so invulnerable, but the truth of it all is, I really ain’t all that tough,
and I fear that those three words that mean so much, but also so little, for they are said too often, in regards to you, I have not said enough.
Ma’am, I am certain you grew up in America, where as I’m from down under, from a state far adjacent to that of Perth,
and it would most definitely seem from our noble beginnings when we were born, God wanted to give us both quite the wide berth.
I dedicated my life to writing and gaining a doctorate, whilst you dedicated yours to staying at home,
loyally watching over your loving family with respect, like an unflinching, always trustworthy garden gnome.
In your spare time you use your remarkably athletic form and go dancing in the grim shadows,
whilst back in Australia, not everything is the stereotypical gullies and meadows.
However, what the two of us have in common are the numerous stars that we watch at night, and the clouds all black and blue;
that unusually warm touch you feel right now upon your shoulders young lady – that’s me, romantically thinking about you,
for I frequently hunger for your passionate affection, and I swear I’ll starve without you near,
and I wish we weren’t separated by oceans and continents, I wish you were with me right here.
I often wonder what is happening with the world, and where the old one I once knew and loved inevitably went,
and why all of the once potent emotion is being poured into pain and horror, and if it is emotion well spent.
What happened to the age old conception ‘treat others the way you want to be treated’?
for in this world, truth justice and mercy are sacrificed, and true love is defeated.
I hope this inevitability ain’t my fate, and if so, I ask you, give me another toss at the game of luck, give me a second chance,
for although I ain’t no proud patriot who can fight through thick and thicker, I am a strong believer in emotion, reminiscence and romance,
and I can assure you, I would bleed on the Union Jack to make sure the faithful stripes stay bright red.
No matter whether I’m alive or in my time of dying, I feel there’s nothing more to be said,
but I would ask that you do not become overburdened with sad and depressing emotions and burst into tears for me, and that you happily smile in remembrance instead,
and if the world was plunged into war tomorrow, I would participate if it meant I could keep dreaming about you inside my head.
When imagining a fantasy world in which we know one another I can picture a location of common place where you’re listening to Metallica
over the radio, their awesome rock n’ roll classics ripping through the speakers as you loyally jam to their tunes, before introducing yourself as ‘Aayla.’
It must be an expensive persona you are living as we attempt to guess your origins. ‘No’ you say, ‘I ain’t from Launceston, and I ain’t from Maribyrnong.
No, I am from nowhere near here. Instead, I come from a different place entirely with traditional working man roots, where Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Wrecking Ball’ is the theme song;
where the widely renown Star Wars theme is sung every night before dinner;
where the biggest loser can almost always become the biggest winner.
That’s right ladies and gents, I come from the mighty United States, and I will certainly return there soon,
so if you’ve something to tell me I suggest you confess it real quick, and by that, I mean this afternoon,
cuz come tomorrow I’ll be long gone, and young man, you especially, will be left on your own,
and being a pure blooded California gal and a pseudo Australian I can tell you twice, it’s awful cold when you are all alone.’
I have this uncanny feeling inside my heart and soul, one where I believe legitimately to have already lost you once, but I promise I won’t lose you again twice,
and to this I can assure you to ensure my promise fulfilled, I will commit to anything you ask of me and do whatever you say and I would take any advice,
no matter how fruitless it may seem, for I am officially sick of being alone, and all of this empty space;
I am sick to my stomach at being away from you and wherever you want I will meet you, any time or place.
For if feeling good is a crime (and I’ve never felt this good until I laid my eyes upon you), someone had better lock me up right now cuz I feel fantastic,
and in regards to all of your truth and beauty, and all the love in your gorgeous heart, I have officially become an addict
for you. But when it comes to love, perhaps I am simply and without a doubt incompetent
cuz I fall madly in love way too easily. Then again, perhaps I am a delinquent
for failing to expertly spot the difference between human life, unconditional never ending love and horrifying misery,
but even with this said, if I were to die tomorrow, I would never want to go to Heaven, unless you were up there waiting for me.
To have you rare angel, I will delve deep into formidable places where no hero dare goes,
and upon hearing this you might reply ‘really? Well, tell me Pinocchio, how long is your nose?’
I am no liar, you have to believe me when I say I think I love you, and to ensure your survival, I’d push you out of the way of a nuke.
You won’t ever need to be a fabulously rich duchess for me to love you, but if you were, and you were to ask of me, I’d gladly be your duke.
After hearing these words Untitled Beauty, it might be best that you throw away your key after locking all your windows, and barring all the doors,
and make a pact with Satan, or pray to whomever God you solely believe in, for no existing mortal entity can save you anymore
from my love, which is invulnerable to harm. However, in reality, I have to ask you, in regards to romance, how can it be a good thing if those we love are doomed to die,
after pledging all of our allegiances and our love into their lives, and rare angels such as yourself succumb to destiny and perish, before plummeting out from the falling sky?
But if this unfortunate fate were to become yours, to get you back, I can assure you, I would traverse through the village of the damned,
if it meant eternal happiness could return to me again, and I could one day have my loving heart safely under your command.
When the world is at its darkest, and I’m drowning in the depression of the rain
I simply sit back and gladly admire your beautiful picture once again,
and imagine what you might ask me if we were to meet. You’d enquire ‘Derek, Naughty, whatever title you choose to go by’, before asking what I am going to do for you,
and I’d truthfully reply ‘I would take the stars right out of the night sky if such an act could prove my love alive and whole, and I would paint ‘em pink and purple and even pure gold too!’
It may sound completely out of this world insane, but what I say is not a total fabrication, and it certainly ain’t a ruse;
if given but one opportunity to spend my life with anyone, you are the only person I’d always faithfully choose,
because sweet Aayla impersonator, you are without a doubt one in 7.4 billion.
Dressing up in all those outfits moreover, you look exactly like a saucy chameleon;
you look incredible; you look beyond inhuman; you look flawless; you are perfect undoubtedly,
and with those luscious red lips and that sugar sweet smile I just know you are destined to belong with me.
Sometimes the darkness wakes me up and sometimes the silence speaks so loudly it is deafening to behold,
for whenever I am without you Untitled Beauty, I suddenly feel so indescribably cold,
because it is only in your eyes that I believe I have found where I eternally belong
and never until this moment which stands before me now have I felt so immeasurably strong.
However, in this inhospitable place, I fear I might be labeled the interloper, or the pariah
because of you my darling, for being all that I’ll ever want, all that I’ll ever need; for being my eternal desire,
and, to put a stop to this, people may light up their torches and sharpen their pitchforks too, before coming to claim me,
and will point to those who can corroborate that it was I, the antagonist, who acted with such vile villainy,
for all the boys who look upon you are filled with lustful gluttony, and the women become so jealous
at your unfathomable angelic beauty, and as for I, you make me so romantically ravenous.
Remember when I said this was not a love poem my dear? Well, I have to admit that perhaps I lied,
and if such be the case you could always blame it on the demon I have within this heart of mine inside.
I can assure you, I do not write these words in order to gain power, and I will certainly never need the likes of money or fame,
especially after I win over your beautiful beating heart, for then I will have everything I’ll ever need once it’s you I claim,
and although I still don’t quite know you, from your personality to your values, from your general likes and the neighborhood
you grew up in, judging by your looks alone, you deserve to be erected centre stage in the middle of Hollywood,
and then, once I’ve identified who you are and more, as promised, I’ll spend my life staring lovingly into your eyes forever.
The chance, if even there was one which I doubt, of me falling out of love with you my darling rests somewhere between naught and never,
so if you have ever had grave concerns, I ask that you ‘don’t fret, don’t cry and don’t ever believe
that feelings from your heart unto mine is not the one thing that I have always wanted to achieve.’
THANK YOU FOR READING!
SYNOPSIS: About a man, or perhaps even a woman, who wonders what it would be like to be with the woman that he or she loves, and contemplates the wish of there being many different ways that could be optional to see if there is in fact a Heavenly future for the both of them, and the repercussions of said future.
There are things in this world you cannot change,
some people in this world you cannot love.
If only reality could be rearranged
so this Earth could reflect Heaven above.
Yet if that happened, this world would be over,
and I would lose my chance to tell you how I felt.
I don’t know if my heart could ever recover
the significant trauma that would be dealt.
Sometimes I wish the future could be seen,
so that I would know what the future holds;
I could discover a world where you are my queen,
turning my heart from ash to liquid gold.
Yet in real life if I said I wanted you
this facade would not be what you truly become;
I cannot foresee what you would possibly do,
but I know in my heart it would hurt someone.
What I write may never come out with ease,
but my heart cannot stay shut forever;
I only hope that you listen and that you please,
allow us a chance at being together.
Yet in the end you will never read this verse
and so my heart shall become frail, weary and dry.
Your inability to love me is my curse;
always absent from our kingdom of the sky.
It’s not easy for me to write these words,
because deep down I don’t know what to do.
You ever loving me is completely absurd,
yet I still wish to spend my life with you.
SYNOPSIS: The title basically summarises the entire outline of the poem; the notion that someone is ‘out of one’s league’ is the theme of this piece, where the man of whom the poem centres around confesses his undying love for the woman he is infatuated with, knowing full well that he is not deserving of spending an eternity with her because she is far too amazing.
On this particular day, my heart and soul, shall dress totally in black;
figuratively and hypothetically, from now until forever, my heart shall never look back.
For I have made an empty silence, of my heart,
depriving myself of my true love as we begin to part.
Never will you know the way I truly feel,
such ideology originally appearing so surreal.
I begin to hear my heart violently riot and shout
believing this to be the young woman I am not to be without.
And yet in this fantastical reality of my so called life
I know you were never meant to be the mother of my children, nor my wife.
And although I will always terribly miss you,
I know in my heart, I’m never going to be good enough for you.
The sky begins to lose its colour and the sun irreversibly turns to gray,
at least that’s how it feels as I begin to turn my back and walk away.
I don’t know if it’s just the world or if I’m going insane
but I constantly find myself crying out your name.
Perhaps I am too late, but this feeling is running throughout my heart and soul,
I think I learnt what love is, but I’m afraid I let the trail go cold.
I attempt to trick myself to quit feeling the pain inside,
however the pain will break through; it always does, until it reaches the outside.
I know deep down without you I shall never be alright
the one good thing I need, I just can’t have tonight.
If love is anything, I have discovered it is a terrifying race
and in the end I’m constantly, if but lucky – left in second place.
In my mind I have these broken dreams whilst I attempt to sleep,
constantly it’s your face I see, which ultimately makes me weep.
If I could have but one wish I would grant you the gift to see
the roaring emotions I have for you which live inside of me.
However things shall go wrong, they eventually always do,
my soul never been given the ability to belong to you.
But I was so young and naïve when I believed in all of this,
believing I would one day have the chance to taste your forbidden kiss.
When I was young, like everyone else, I felt the sun would always shine
and that inevitably you would, on one glorious day, be mine.
But even if you should leave and completely disappear
a part of you will always remain within me right here.
I sat up on the roof last night and looked up at the stars,
under the cover of the moon I contemplated my life thus far.
As the sky began to change and become a far deeper shade of blue
my mind began to manifest all my thoughts onto one subject – which was you.
I pretended you were close to me, but it wasn’t nearly close enough,
without you standing close to me my life shall inevitably be rough.
I remember how I always love the way your clothes make you look;
you are so amazing because you never do anything by the book.
I too am cursed to remember the beauty of your laugh,
wishing to freeze such extravagant beauty within a photograph.
These memories constantly rip apart my heart and make me feel so foul,
I could not imagine how you could be any more beautiful than you are right now.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t ever do for you, but there’s nothing I’d do either,
I wish you could put yourself into the shoes of this cold, lifeless cadaver.
My love for you consists of a constant roaring emotion,
which is tossed about inside me like a ship on the ocean.
For not confessing these feelings to you I haven’t any legitimate reason;
this false identity I have created is as cold and lifeless as the winter season.
But if I were to confess my feelings, what words could possibly define,
the way I feel about this someone, who looks so perfectly divine?
When it comes to confessing feelings, I don’t need a book to show me how,
moreover, I won’t ever need a teacher to explain to me I want you now.
Because in all honesty it seems my ship has run aground
and you are the nesessary tide I need to come spin me back around.
I know your name, but I will not dare to write it down,
for you are the single most beautiful woman in this entire town.
I do not write down your name from fear of the embarrassment it would cause,
for you, the woman whose singular beauty has but not a single flaw.
However, by not confessing how I feel my eyes shall constantly weep,
your amazingly intricate beauty – it runs so extraordinarily deep.
The point of this journey of mine is to never actually arrive,
yet every time I look at you I am thrilled to be alive.
I know in truth we are not destined to ever be together
but I can promise you my dear, my love for you shall last forever.
I cannot keep up this facade much longer and my heart can no longer pretend
so here’s the truth – I’m the man of your dreams, masquerading as your good friend.
I wish you could take these words to bed with you and hold onto them at night.
I wish I could take you home with me and tell you everything will be alright.
I know there is a method in my madness as to why I live a lie,
in reality I hope I shall eventually live before I die.
For how could I allow the story of my love for you go untold;
such a narrative perfectly representing the day my heart was sold.
But all these dreams I have are constantly out of reach my friends said
and that all these thoughts are foolish schemes filling up my stupid head.
However, I think I’ve been true to everyone with the exception of you and me
and the way I feel causes me great pain and makes my heart long to be free.
Every time I look upon your beauty I am suddenly made aware,
that the woman I am fated to spend eternity with has constantly been there.
I remember the day I looked upon your intricately smiling face;
that day I was captured by a beauty my mind was unable to erase.
Such a moment of grand magnificence played out exactly like a scene,
one that had been captured directly from the silver screen.
It was such a shame then, as it is right now, that my heart I cannot trust,
for you, the world’s most beautiful young woman – I have an incredible crush.
I repeat these thoughts to myself almost every single day
and in the end I just don’t know how to quit feeling this way.
For I have constantly and will forever allow my love to play me the fool;
I follow society’s guide book on love, never breaking any of their rules.
For this I’m constantly filled with regret, whilst lost for what to do,
the simple truth is I’m never going to be good enough for you.
SYNOPSIS: About a young woman who left Melbourne, Victoria, to experience a life outside the city, and the repercussions of her leaving on the state. For she was no ordinary woman – no, she was the heart and soul of the city, and without her, everything was no longer as beautiful as it once was, paradise being inevitably lost.
A million Australian hearts are aching because we love you,
if you would close your eyes you can feel exactly as we do.
You should know deep down that one of those hearts indeed belongs to me,
like so many others you are my private stash of ecstasy.
Yet none of us will ever be able to feel your gentle touch
despite the each of us been cursed with this infatuated crush.
For you are the heart and soul of all that is Melbourne;
from the Yarra River all the way to St.Albans.
And if you should leave you would hear the sounds of all who have cried
for the night that you left is the night, that poor old Melbourne died.
I turn on my television and see your name on the six o’clock news
and then your face appears and I stare longingly into those baby blues.
When you left everybody they knew you, but then the city began to fall,
it would appear through such actions that none of us really ever knew you at all.
When we used to sit together I should have tried to make conversation
because your leaving inevitably caused all of this devastation.
It would appear that not confessing these feelings was a terrible mistake,
the final one of such gargantuan magnitude that I shall ever make.
And now that I’m alone, I’d give up forever just to see you again,
for you are the heart and soul of this city, being my lover and close friend.
I would have said something to you but I always get so nervous
and I feared you had a boyfriend I would not want to make jealous.
If I had tried to confess my feelings you would have known you had my full attention
for my lips would have failed to move as I attempted to conduct conversation.
My big, wide brown eyes would have been all that expressed the truth;
that I am forever and undoubtedly cursed to never stop loving you.
I would have told you how I feel and asked if you hunger for me,
for you are my angel; the only one I ever see.
I would confess I feel the urge to have you crawling underneath my skin
and said ‘the hell with it’ if I was considered to be living in sin.
Usually in this alternate universe I’d have been incredibly shy
but on this one, fictitious occasion I do believe I caught your eye.
I was strung out and lost, without any sense of bravery,
but you helped provide to me my missing masculinity.
On that night it would have been both our first time, during which I felt I died
and on this hypothetical night we made love, you turned your back on me and began to cry.
You would compare our love to a boat on the ocean being pushed forward by oars,
‘this was mine’ you would say, indicating your body, ‘but now all this is yours.’
But the fates or whatever have permanently barred me from you
and I guess this fantasy world I live in will have to make do.
In truth I am only half the man you need me to be
although I have been caught by your embracing melody.
You have put a spell over me as you have over every man you’ve ever met,
your radiant appearance is the one thing I’ll never be able to forget.
Compared to you we are but flotsam lying under the city lights
whilst you soar gracefully up above, being our radiant satellite.
For not confessing these feelings I especially am sorry
but one day I might open up my heart once I’ve found the glory.
And when that day does come I shall tell you ‘you are my queen’,
I’m sure many other men know exactly what I mean.
Everything I have failed to achieve can never be undone
and the feelings I have for you are constantly on the run.
For my feelings are a lost and broken ship at the mercy of the sea
constantly fighting for survival and hoping one day you’ll notice me.
Because you are the great lighthouse, which is positioned in the harbour,
waiting patiently for the right ship to arrive and be your lover.
There you are so graceful, captured in the simplest and most purest of ways,
your light, which is so eloquent, constantly shining every single day.
If only it were so easy to tell you how I feel
then perhaps I could take you out for an exquisite meal.
But I know all of these feelings are a result of an infatuation,
at least that is the opinion I have acquired from this one assumption.
The strongest thing in this city would undoubtedly be your spirit,
the one thing in all of Melbourne that none of us could ever edit.
If your presence were to ever leave I would feel so lonely and out of place
and inevitably I would be caught by the memory of your embrace.
I would undoubtedly remember how I stumbled all my life,
until I laid my eyes on you, wishing for you to be my wife,
for you are the young woman who shall save all of our lives;
and save each and every one of us from our own demise.
If I had written a diary, you would be in every single line,
describing your beauty on every page which is just so sublime.
By writing my feelings down no longer would they be trapped behind a barren door,
in reality this facade of mine is something I can’t keep up no more.
Since meeting you my life has changed and has ultimately not been the same;
I am proud to say although I do not write it down that I know your name.
I, like so many other men, find myself wishing to turn back time;
I too, like every other man, wish that someday you could be mine.
But then reality bites, the curtain falls and all the lights come up
and I know deep down that this fantasy world will never be enough.
If you should ever disappear, who will ever take your place,
for there is nobody in this world with such a pretty face.
And just like a river runs directly out to sea
I would wish that someday you would return to this city.
And perhaps a miracle would occur and you would return someday,
when that day does come, everything, will inevitably be okay.
But until this day does come fantasy and reality cannot relate
and the penalty I’ve been endowed is that my mind cannot think straight.
Until the day you do return, in my heart you are a runaway train
and all of my feelings for you, which are locked away, beg to be explained.
Everyone of us inside this state are filled with a great amount of pity,
each and every one of us praying for the survival of our city.
If I had to take your place to protect this city I know that I could
if you told me to be yours forever I know I undoubtedly would.
But until that day comes we drink ourselves down to new lows,
the love each of us has for you continuing to grow.
For you are the heart and soul of all that is Melbourne,
from the Yarra River all the way to St.Albans.
And if you should leave you would hear the sounds of all who have cried
for the night that you left is the night, that poor old Melbourne died.
SYNOPSIS: About a man who comes walking into town, and not a minute after his entry, he has already found that certain someone he wishes to spend his life with.
My contention when writing this love poem is to tell it from a third person view
that way no one in the world will know your name and will have no one to tie it back to;
and neither of us will ever become embarrassed, or caught up in great despair,
for my secret will be carefully hidden within the pages of this poem.
In truth however I don’t even know your name, but I do remember those angel eyes,
I only hope you can forgive me, if from now on I refer to you as ‘she’ or ‘her.’
We first met on a beautiful Friday morning at approximately ten a.m;
her hair was a lustrous red and flowed down her back like an extravagant ocean.
She wore tight jet black pants with decorations of brilliant red roses down the sides,
whilst her perfectly symmetrical body moved in unison with every step.
She had the body of an angel, all she was missing were those great white wings,
but why would she ever need them, for I did not wish for her to fly away.
That same day I was a complete stranger, who had only just come rolling into town,
I had already built up quite the reputation, for breaking hearts and taking names.
The dust kicked up around my feet as I attempted to blend in with the crowds,
but she suddenly spotted I; the man who was not walking too casually.
I was bound to do some extreme damage, which must have been why I looked so out of place,
my eyes coming to lock upon her; the ravishing angel, who was a work of heart.
She looked upon my face as I stared into those unmistakably beautiful eyes,
that were, long and behold a paradise, hidden by the single most gorgeous disguise.
Such was her silky skin, her stylish hair, her flawlessly perfect body,
my eyes being unable to remove themselves from such a perfect figure.
But that moment, it did not last forever, and it unfortunately had to end
and when finally given the opportunity I could never find her again.
Once upon a time I had found myself lost within the troubles of my youth,
I can only hope that I am not ashamed of the person I am today.
To prove myself the protagonist that was sent to rescue the woman of my dreams,
I would accomplish everything and anything to secure a happy ending.
She may yet wonder why I dare do things that others do not, after heeding talk of caution.
But I dare deliberately to do almost anything to become the man I ought to be.
For if she were to combine her ravishing voice with mine, such would be stupendous,
as we fatedly come together to experience romance everlasting.
To do this however she would need to cross a river of grief, pride and pain
to eventually find that old tragic heart of mine buried deep down inside.
By doing this she would be shown a part of me that no one has ever seen;
a part of me, moreover, that no one else in this world of ours ever will.
I find myself compelled to ask her the question ‘girl, what am I to you?’
‘Am I unloved?’; ‘Am I your future?’; ‘Do we even share a connection?’
I ask such a question because in this world there are two kinds of men;
these include, those of whom you grow out of and those who you grow into.
I hope with all my heart however that I am to be indeed the latter.
I may not be the man she loves today, but I can wait until tomorrow.
Nevertheless I cannot believe that she has not seen through my secret disguise;
it is so thin, so unnecessarily useless that I wish to tear it down.
I pretend I am the man of her dreams, when in reality I don’t believe I am.
With this said I would appreciate becoming the man who could provide to her a home.
I feel however that the fates, your friends, your family, all believe this could never work
and if that be the case leave me gone forever; leave me but a memory, nothing more.
SYNOPSIS: A piece about a woman, who, even if she does not realise it yet, has a man wrapped hopelessly around her finger.
She’s the girl like Aphrodite, Cleopatra and Cher;
what could I possibly give to her?
She’s the girl who looks so sweet,
it is her I long to meet.
She’s the girl with the crooked smile,
I’ll see her again in a little while.
She’s the girl who I’ve seen in my dreams,
dancing around wearing pale blue jeans.
She’s the girl who I dream to hold,
since meeting her my heart was sold.
She’s the girl who I want as mine,
who attends restaurants and drinks exquisite wine.
She’s the girl I always see,
who knows nothing about me.
She’s the girl with nothing to lose,
who’d enjoy dining on a romantic cruise.
She’s the girl who I’ve always dreamed to kiss;
whenever she’s gone it’s her I miss.
She’s the girl from the perfect town,
who I’ve seen smile, but never frown.
She’s the girl with the pretty face,
from the different culture and ethnic race.
She’s the girl I see everywhere I go,
and yet for her I’ve nothing to show.
She’s the girl with the luxurious car;
at night she swims in her gold spa.
She’s the girl with the truly beautiful eyes;
all across her magnificent body her beauty lies.
She’s the girl with the magnificent voice,
who I would love if given the choice.
She’s the girl who’s never being alone at night;
who’s exceptionally talented and extremely bright.
She’s the girl who visits me in my sleep,
whose memory makes my heart weep.
She’s the girl who keeps in contact by phone,
when dreaming of her I’m not alone.
She’s the girl who looks like Spring;
to her body birds will sing.
She’s the girl who lights up a room,
with her face she can make a flower bloom.
She’s the girl with the single greatest Heavenly body;
whose taste in clothes is of utmost luxury.
She’s the girl whose everything I’m not-
what can I give to her that she ain’t got?
She’s the only girl I will ever love,
who looks down on me from up above.
SYNOPSIS: About wishing to be a young woman’s very own personal superhero, and the hypothetical powers one might have and the things one could do if such was indeed not a fantasy, but a reality, and the brutal harshness of what happens when reality eventually does indeed bite.
The weatherman concludes the news by saying goodnight.
The mayor closes the city by turning off its lights.
All the stars come out and begin to fill up the magnificent sky;
and the civilian’s, they dream, of all the people who are destined to die.
Out on the street, a car begins to triumphantly break down
and cries of regret ring out all through this hollow, ghostly town.
You walk down the street hoping to be rescued by your white knight,
whilst I sit at home wishing to be your superman tonight.
What if every hero were to spontaneously disappear
and there was not a soul around to wipe away your precious tears?
What if every hero was to surprisingly resign
and there was no one around to tell you, ‘you look so fine’?
Would you open up your heart and soul if you were to hear my plea;
every time our eyes meet your ravishing beauty overwhelms me.
For if I were your hero, everything would always be alright
and when you go to bed you would finally sleep soundly tonight.
Even heroes such as I can dream of a lovers kiss,
especially when it’s from your lusciously gorgeous lips.
Without you by my side I could never times infinity be whole,
you are the answer that is constantly needed inside of my soul.
Whenever I see you, my knees begin to grow weak
and I instantly find it so difficult to speak.
In reality however no hero would ever act like this
but the inconvenient truth is; no hero really does exist.
In reality I am, unfortunately, not much to look at
which is why I wear this magnificent cape and matching cowboy hat.
I may be disturbed, or I may even be completely insane
and my concepts on superheroes may seem totally inane.
But such ideologies are what I have, cherish and believe,
no matter if they always sound so incredibly naïve.
If I am the hero there is no doubt you are the plane,
you are the only young woman who drives my heart insane.
It is said that each and every superhero has a unique power
one which is used religiously at the chime of each and every hour.
If that be true, then I wish I had the ability to fly
which is a power that no superhero could ever deny.
With these invisible wings, through the clouds I would soar,
to find that special someone I have been searching for.
I cannot help falling head over heels in love with you,
without you by my side my heart is lost for what to do.
If I was your true hero we would never be apart;
for it’s you who touches every place in this hero’s heart.
Choosing to live without you would be this man’s biggest mistake,
which would inevitably cause this young hero’s heart to break.
I need you to survive because you are the better part of me
and by proving my love to you, my heart would finally be free;
for no one else in this world does to me what you do
and the hero inside me will help with your rescue.
Every night I lie awake in bed and dream of your deliciously moist kiss,
never in my wildest dreams did I believe I could feel anything like this.
Even hero’s such as myself and others have the continued right to dream;
for in reality heroes such as I could not exist, so it would seem.
I would sell my soul to ultimately become your hero,
whenever I think of you this heart reaches a crescendo.
I do not know what it could be that you inevitably do
but you have this hero madly and forever in love with you.
I swear to you I will love you until this body grows weary and old
if I am represented as silver, then you, my love, are solid gold.
To prove my love eternal I’d gratefully sweat, burn and bleed,
to have you as my one true love I promise I will succeed.
I feel you in my skin and in my bones which are so hollow,
to have you in these arms tonight I would beg, steal and borrow.
Every hero has a weakness and you are, I swear to you, my Kryptonite,
and although this is truth I speak I still wish to be your superman tonight.