Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

she was a flaming redhead that night
her a tart and I a soldier in WWI drag
we met over brandy after trick or treat
it was a chance encounter, it really was

I had met her before, but this time she was a redhead
not the dishwater blonde who had barely caught my attention
and I was a soldier now, not a civilian
simple poet with no medals
I told her that I was shipping out in the morning

attest to what a mask can do
a costume, a facade
it's a spooky night to make a story
touch your lips with brandy on my tongue
we wake up in the morning
no disguises
naked between the sheets
of All Saint's Day

and then what....

its a bit of a cliff hanger, or maybe thats just me. I think, boy now the reality begins, you get yourself "there" and the rest i suppose is the hard part. the more intricate part, i've not really gotten past the de-masking, i wonder what that would sound like in a poem. I want to, but something tells me sex is th easy part. though and i want to write on this, i feel like a freakin virigin every single time...not that theres been that many times, i wonder if that changes, i kind of hope not, well maybe just a little, ...where's yabyum?

more of alyson's "train" of thoughts...woops!

what is this?

some kind of trick?