Black Magic Woman

When a song is playing; the one that takes you back....

To a place where being
unconscious would have
been a welcome mat for comfort.

Not enough alcohol -
A pack of smokes,
chipped nail polish
and his sourcery eyes....

Sent chills along deep corridors
of my mind.

Strangers talk in tounges
as satanic rituals dance
around silent whispers.

Another drink added to salty lips
allows me to become the black magic woman...

He wanted me to be.