Track Name: The Garden Party (Prod. by Jay Prince)
I’ve never found my self much of a party goer
She echoes compliments in my name
despite the fact I hardly know
core the colour yellow,
weather sunshine or stain who cares,
her petals shape a leo's mane
or gust of cluttered leaves and such
Stuttered speech and awkward stares.
She claims here feet are planted
but her roots seem to be hardly here.
We long to find our selves.
Alone to delve deeper into common grounds.
Two perfect strangers, the musics loud i watch her mouth.
Her speech is wayward.
Body language tells a perfect talent
of two playful simbas
I search for symbols of attraction
or a means of lust. I crack a joke,
she cracks a smile and claims I play too much.
Laughs again pats my arm and transitions to a lingered touch
I attempt to wow her
with amateur philosophy
speak in riddles as if i
care about the state of
The news is fickle.
Life is strange that way.
We ghost our selves,
mourning as we lay awake.
I think too far ahead, my mind has wondered.
To this second chance at a first impression
I read expressions like a mirror.
Her voice is new, but her face familiar
It must be twitter.
Distance between us now
mirrors the size of the earth
we stand on. Minutes stand still,
Still we do not question where
the times gone. She said do
you believe in love? I said does a requiem dream?
We crave for the chance to trance in love like hits of opium. see, It'a so addictive.
I saw her heart drop too her stomach
as she described her love for the wind….
The wind would lay with me,
shoot the most gentle breeze through my petals.
Pull my interest from the roots and
never question where I stem from.
Mutually sharing love, as he would share me
and my interests simultaneously.
Through my veins he would pump
an ecstasy I would fiend after every hit.
Bruising, I would excuse and still fiend after every hit.
Losing. Feeling till the rush of pain felt more a numbing bliss.
My memory is not what it used to be….
I stare at her with perfect empathy
I notice every imperfection, questioning
how can someone so perfect be can so flawed
she was the
the unforeseen picture of a princess
after the happily ever after.
the remnants of Rembrandt’s pallet
the Daisy who envied the thorns of a rose
a bouquet of statements like
“the world just doesn’t understand me”
I told her understanding is half the battle
what ever that means… it sounded nice
“Burdens are for shoulders
strong enough to carry them.”
I wanted nothing more
than to place the weight
her world on my back
we stand fractions away
from an action we’ve
anticipated whole heartedly
from hello; I notice her every detail
the goose bumps on her skin
I proceed with a hug
simply to shelter from the wind
I feel her blood pumping through her
flesh and envy it’s presence
lean in for kiss
a picturesque moment in frame
harmonious fear with every second
she stopped me..
and said I didn’t catch you name.
I said The Gardener
she took another sip of her drink
for temporary elation and said
Well, my dear, take heart.
I will kiss you and you will like it.
But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient.