My Sinatra

His kisses were my cigarettes, Like my chocolate, 'Said I could learn from his regrets, That he’d protect me. New York lights turned frosted glass As he’d play me witty sonnets, We’d sway like we were upper class Tuned to deft piano. He promised me stability As such a charismatic lover, Smearing my reality Far into his tomorrow. But music tells so many lies, In his surface such façade, As I held him close to heavy sighs For the past and present life; Of my Sinatra.