Vampiric Aura

Time...
Time……
Time………..
Time begins slipping away
My soul ignites straight down through its core
Afraid to move……unable to stay
And perhaps in a way, weary of what lies beneath
For the tangled web we weave is one of secrets
And of passions longing to be fulfilled
Yet since there is no truth in thinking a war can be waged
Where innocent blood is not spilled
I am chilled to the heart by the sound of the bass thundering upon my ears
While my mind flutters at the touch of her hand as I relinquish all my fears
Into the delicate illusion caused by her hair against my face
As we stand comfortably in position, invading the personal space
To which we clung desperately only moments before
We become covered by the roar of the crowd, bodies all around
Yet there is an all too vivid distinction between the outer and inner sounds
Somehow we stand there, completely in tune with the rest of the room
While subtly being suffocated from the event itself
Exhalation of breath becomes a speech pattern all its own
And as if through some undiscovered form of meiosis, we generate primitive pheromones
Hers trickling from her pores, through the air and down inside of me
Love not the song’s sweet whispers, only the moment’s reality
Therein lies a presence of control exerted by my arm’s retraction against her weight
A preliminary plucking upon the strands of twisted fate
I dance carefully with the scent of the perfume that was lain strategically to attract
Observant but not fully aware, distracted by the curve within her back
No “Mack” nor any “Player” has ever been fortunate enough to see
The beauty that rests therein her existence, a silent symphony
And so she was sent to me….
Or perhaps it was I who was summoned to her
That if only for this fraction of time her triage might concur
With the aura that is close
A tick of the time, a sip of the wine, indeed the final toast
Most could not articulate this stream that flows so deep within
Yet from only a moment within the grasp of one of the pure blood kin
A pen is filled by our memory, the night we created the center stage
She a beaconing focal point and I the splinter sage
Though this page cannot do justice to the gleam in a woman’s eye
The one that is conjured when she finds the connection between her tongue and thigh
Of head and tail, of up and down, of gravity
Then stop…..
A blink of an eye, a loose in the tie, our subconscious answers the clock
The rush diminishes, the dream she finishes, and the look recedes from across her face
My instincts return, the second hand turned, she remembers a strange man within her space
Tick...
Tock……
We return to the party with a bond not easy to trace
Slightly glazed eyes conceal the surprise nostalgia towards the chase
But this isn’t our time and she is not mine and therefore the lips will bear no lies
And until the next time we part our ways or until the morning’s rise
I will be from you and you will be from me with no delusions of evermore
Yet through the inscription placed upon our canvas we are together nevermore