Theirs a hint in the air tonight
that you miss me.
I told you I was in another place,
other then being next to you.
Even though your body hadn't left mine.
I turned the lights off
and climbed up the wall.
My naked finger tips were alive with sensation
and I watched you sleep.
I hummed a lullaby that even still haunts your dreams.
And I stayed close.
My hands traveling up and down the skin on your face,
to all that I was forbidden to listen to.
And crept down,
with the blanket sinking with me.
Next to me,
their is a ghost,
who's belly rises as equally beautiful has the sun and moon.
But he is a ghost that will be gone by morning.
His face is fancy,
to fancy to have mine next to it.
My writings finely tire of me,
and I lay down,