Sunday, June 27, 2010

Dove.

I could feel his thoughts
Through his fingertips
Sheer torture in his eyes
The best fucking kind
Beer stained shorts and
Back porch arguments
This feels like home
Too much like home
I never liked being home
But, I like being with you
I know it's not right
But that's what makes it so right
The nervous pit in my stomach
More red than one of a cherry's
But vibes of steel
Euphoric visions
But an all natural high
You're like a piece of chocolate
I'm fighting these temptations
Fill my void, darling
Fill my void

No comments:

Post a Comment