She With The Fire Red Hair

Brunettes are the best but her red
hair sets the night of my mind
ablaze and sets in motion rioting in
my thoughts for the natives are restless
to think of holding her in my arms,
so close I can smell her,
kissing her warm skin,
listening to her breathing as she sleeps
cause I was the first to wake up.
The thought of her makes me ache to
kiss her sweat damp neck,
her thighs, telling her she's beautiful even
though she thinks it's a lie.
Makes me dizzy.
Leaves me heart sick and wanting more.
So I smoke cigarettes while pondering her existence,
more than once I thought I dreamed her up,
a few times I wish I had
as the image of her walking off
and out of sight runs through my
mind like fever and on into memory.
And like magic she was gone.