We sat, not speaking a couple bar stools between not quite close enough to touch distance that felt insurmountable words ceased to have meaning as the bottle passed from one to another glances lingering longer with each pour until the silence was drenched with the only things left worth saying
Conversation returned with dirty phrases fevered and rough from broken tongues punctuated by claps of desperate flesh etching runes into skin messages for later language abandoned
Doesn't take a few to make me want to call just makes the urge stronger somehow, I've fought it off drink in hand or not playing, replaying those songs that make me want or want to cry or both, which is the real sweet spot no matter what I end up drunk on something
And I could crawl don't mind spending time on my knees but there's nowhere to go other than my bed where dreams of you wake me leave me shaking with the phantom of your lips not quite brushing against hungry skin whispers...
Now that the storm is lulling into a cleansing shower and it's easier to see the road ahead I'm waiting for the moment when I can relax against you stop the cyclones in my mind take a slow, deep breath
The drive ahead is still bumpy as far as the eye can see and I could make a game counting all the potholes in the way
Two points for the ones you avoid
While I might long to take your hands in mine I'm just going to admire them firmly on the wheel keeping...