All I can think about is you
and the way that you carry and ring clear as if I should have already known.
By now, I've already been losing many a good night's sleep over an implicitly vulnerable man.
Maybe this is just what I am
starving through late afternoons just to get an extra ten minutes with you
laughing at bridges and tearing down maps
burying our whole lives below a single bedroom.
And sometimes I didn't know what I had came here for
I think that my warm blood will always itch beneath my skin
and I would take it all off if I thought that it would accomplish something
but you don't even have to touch me to get close to what's inside of me
and with your eyes closed you could tell me what I was feeling, and then you'd ask me why.
It's almost a little silly the way we feel when we're alone, and I can't imagine that something like this isn't a part of what the truth is.