I'm ok most days. . .

sometimes i'm a little sad

thinking about your warm apartment

laying still with my underwear still on

nothing to hide as you draw skulls over my face

i don't miss it at all

only in quiet moments like this

i want you to run your fingers over my back

kiss the spine of my neck and tell me all your secrets

but maybe it's better if you don't

smiling at you and we're really getting somewhere

it's just something we have to do, i know it's not fun, but in some ways

it's the last step or at least we're getting there

cross the waves and my back is killing me it's almost day light

and she's soft on my mind

this world i'll never be a part of

i telling you of my love, as we talk about angels and past lives

making up these memories, as true as daylight

as false as my sense of humor

curling up my toes while we're having sex and like i said we're really getting somewhere

and yet i still dream of that flood gate opening and kisses on the back of my neck

while your curl up behind me, soft and admitting

nothing

she walks out onto the patio and i follow her

the lemonade in my hand

there's a soft breeze and as she turns to me her hair waves hello

her eyes tell me she's been waiting for me

i shake my head and look out the window at my lone street light

keeping me up at night. . .

minor key and paint across everything, valenica and a hammock, wishing that day could last forever

i was close to you and something was, almost there. . .

the wind blows across my room, my nipples have been hard all week

and i wonder where this little bit of loneliness creeps in from