I want to kiss your hips until they bleed,
and your skin finally has color,
because it's nights like this one
that make my fingers ache for you,

and my scars are burning
(I'm writhing for your promises
that are waiting for tomorrow to break)
to be re-opened and I itch
just to press my mouth against yours and
I rub my fingers across my lips,

We're all lust and midnights and humid june days
(so tonight,you'll be the cliché)
and we're free falling onto your sheets and my fleece blanket
is earning it's keep tonight,

my fingers are in your hair and your hips are pressing me
into your bed and your words are in my head
I whisper your name against your neck,
and my legs are tangled with yours
while we share a cigarette and a beer
and your shoulders are scarred by my nails
one.more.time.

you ask me when my mind is twisting
and your fingers wont stop teasing me,
how we'll remember to forget this in the morning.
(I whisper,
we'll put it in a picture frame)