A Sleepy Kind Of Love I lie, half submerged in the sand, My fingertips buried so the dirty pebbles, Inch under my soft pink nails. Sleep is a rose, It ripples out and devours me. Asleep in this dusty day dream, As the breezy lapse of waves, Swifts over my hot and seasoned skin. A soft halo tenders me from the sweet half light, The careless tapering moon quivers. Ah, Moon, I simper, hair strewn wildly filtering through the rocks, Moon is me and I am the moon and will I be gone when the sun comes back? Enchanted morning breaking on the cliff, Of a desperate heart that clings to the roots of its saviour, Even if it rips it from its rest. So I rest, So I rest. Dear Moon, and dear light that serves me this warmth of glow, On happy hour at dawn. Darling to those who wash over me, Those who taste these words and feel them sour. Bitterly I write to you, Thrown in sand and line of right and sea, Left and sand, A century passes but I am lain here, Surrendered to the mesmerizing skies above me. Hopeless, Helpless, And defiantly seduced.