The Mystique has been Lost

The mystique has been lost—

paper print-outs replace

the palpable ticket of card complete with a shiny seal,

now scanned lazily and discarded,

the mystique has been lost.

The mystique has been lost—

seen through a plethora

of phone screens capturing the same pixelated images,

to share to more indifferent, unseeing eyes,

the mystique has been lost.

The mystique has been lost—

a predetermined set

readily available to be previewed on the Internet,

playing only the most $ucce$$ful hits,

the mystique has been lost.

The mystique has been lost—

and through the sea

of vexatious tropes from a diluted, stagnating scene

that the Internet age has brought

the mystique has been lost.

The mystique has been lost—

and yet the music has not.

#Ink

Carve something graceful

into my chest meaningful;

so to kiss and clench.

Crossed Paths

There is a saccharine romance,

a scenario spoiled by chance

when passing by a stranger

known only by a smile and glance.

And so the sweetness is subdued

to its lonely circumstance,

in a crossing of dreamy eyes

which can both beguile and entrance.

Both parties go separate ways

whilst their minds skip, hand in hand

both pondering what could have been

if confidence had more command...

The Changing of Guard

Waves peel away the pebbled sheets

on the maritime mattress,

folding gently towards the foot

of the ocean bed.

The dawn sun rises

at the dusk of the lunar reign.

The bed is freshly made

to be slept in again.

Dishwater

Ink ingrained into the palm of my hand,

a furtive reminder;

now here—

subtle enough to be washed away.