Anthology of wayward romance

If I could speak a thousand miles with just a whisper,
divine my breath along your neck, poetry would claim the breeze  
and I could fall as rain across bushido borders.  
 
My mother must've told me, just be good.  
And be careful. But it's so hard to be...  
Careful and good.  
 
Pick-up bars & one-night desperadoes,
trouble in a dirty glass. I drink my lonely  
with a sparkle in my eye, raise my glass to boothill  
where gunfighters and fugitive pick-up lines turn to dust.
 
'Lovers gotta love,' that's what you said.
When you take away a heartbeat, lover is just a lonely word.  
Desperate is a woman who puts herself on display
to draw a man who will burn with her spider flames,  
as she puts off all the burnt out romeos
 
when that man comes, she'll shed her passion  
like summer rain and not be ashamed  
cause she knows, lovers gotta love.
 

(Artwork: Nickolas Muray)