5100
The summer of
Alex Isley’s scattered tunes
and melodies. Beats as we beat
hearts and fast feet, linking up in
likewise thoughts and dreams.
The summer of loves heat,
you wrote to make my soul speak,
to make my flesh need, to entice my mind
with fantasies. Scattered tunes
disguised as soaked sheets,
thumping rhythm covered
up as lyrical repeats.
Ending seemed not as sweet,
leaving loves regrets
like yesterday’s beats,
melodies still lingering
in my head like grief,
you can’t get no relief.
I guess it’s best to believe
it was never meant to be.
egf
