Heavenly Breath

The blu-ray on repeat, as I waste an off Sunday, trying to find light.
The young woman is lithe and sexy, her voice a such a sensous delight.
Happy music, for happy people. Love songs for the fresh to the fire.
Simple ballads, about letting go, and how all heartache takes you higher.
People rich and proud dance in their seats, and lose themselves to passion.
The young woman is an ambassador of power, a self-made icon of giggly fashion.
 I see the young woman smile on stage, all the world adores her, she has it made.
She has the joy of the music, and the beauty of secret shells, for which she prayed.
And the day slips into evening into night as the blu-ray plays over and over and over,
as if I could conjure her spells in my empty mind and broken heart, in the undeath.
As if I could be like her, a demi-god, a fleshly angel, drawing in heavenly breath.
Repeat, repeat, repeat. Just let it wash over me, this dream of a happier beauty.
Of a rarefired place, where there is more to life, than muddling through as duty.
 11 o’ clock at night, and morning will come soon, to kick me back into the work-a-day.
Those bright colors, those bright souls, I’ll draw to hold close, as I stumble my way.
The thoughts that just want to sleep, the dreams dissapointed, fallen to ground..
The ache that is abscessed and infected, and which is soothed by that cheerful sound.
The young woman, such light and joy, dancing on air, singing like the angel I lost.
Can I ever be with her in the sky, on the stage, regaining all I love, what is the cost?

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