Not of This Parrish
I read the screenplay that you stepped from,
Off the vellum sheets of winter snow,
A hood of white fur framed your face,
When the outside world struck five below.
Your blue-eyes traced by black mascara,
And wide mouth dusted cherry pink,
The perfect skin of sheer structure,
I stared in fear my eyes would blink.
Translated signals from your movements
In the grainy streets of black and white,
A shot of film noir pricked my nerves,
And flocks of angels took to flight.
Flecks of snow snagged on your lashes,
Twinkled diamond-like and pale,
I loved you then and now and always,
And yet such love to no avail.
Not of this place, not of this Parrish,
From somewhere wild I cannot find,
Not of this place, not of this Parrish,
A wraith that flickers through my mind.
And you are lost from skewed decisions,
That I have made and can’t undo,
And every day I dream and ponder,
Regretful cost of losing you.
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