North Star

It’s second nature,
To vibe with those alike,
Nervous notions nulled by hexing similarities,
And a smile like the North Star in dead night.

The music in her voice heard,
Over loud crowds and words-
Musical nomenclature propels and reverbs,
Off the chapel’s halls,
Enough red hair to contradict my self confidence’s fall,
A shaky burst of laughter to show I’m enthralled.

I’m tapping my foot on the carpet floor,
Arms crossed and head wrapped in rapport-
Forged from present fantasy and something more,
I decide then to not place my hands where I no longer want them anymore.
The corruption of her white righteousness by my black hands,
Staining and-
Debasing things grand-
Clocks just strike four.

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