Neon Brunette

Nostalgia, you are awesome.
The enigmatic blurs that you swirl around in my heart
Invokes that hypnotic scent of you.
Cherry blossom bliss triggers telephone wire wrath,
Scurrying about the bedroom in a rampage.

Neon Brunette,
You are my Tarantella,
You cause my frenzied dance as Saint Tarantism.
You are Marie, daughter of desires,
Making me into a pixelated zombie.

I find comfort in these words,
Would you take even that away from me?

Fourteen years, it takes to breed
A false perfection of a queen
Adorned in teenage angst bouquets,
Pouted skin, sultry syllables, wrapped in rhymes in play.

I think we should have a reunion
And sort all these matters out.
Chances are, you don't feel the same.