Before I Forget

I want to kiss you before I forget what you taste like
I want to hold you before I forget what you feel like
I want to lie in your bed before I forget what your sheets smell like
but the loud humming of machines is all I can hear
not a taste, touch or smell can penetrate the clouds in my ears.

I want the image of you standing behind me, kissing where my neck meets my shoulder to be a memory not a dream
I want to lay my head on your bare chest to hear your caged heart thrash against your ribs.
I want to have a pocket full of postcards of all the places we have been
but never leave the crushing softness of your bed.

All these wants are left for wishes as you kick me with compliments and shuffle off leaving a wake of my oozing heart.
Do I run after you and grab your hand in defiance?
No, you continue to lead this waltz to nowhere
less of a dance, more of a silent stand off for good face time

Invite me somewhere with you
Ask me to wrap my arms around you once more before the week ends.
I have chills that speak to the cold of the surroundings
but from this freezing tower I look out on humid nights
and wait for you to offer your hand for a promenading debut

It's just that I may catch a chill before you have the opportunity to offer said palm.
So hurry and turns my wants and dreams to reality before I forget.

Fickle Friction

I watch you sleep and crave to kiss you in the dark glow of your television. Your heavy breathing calls for heavy petting but I waver to wake you. Instead I plant soft kisses on your shoulders, you stir awake with gratitude but fall back to dreamland just as quickly. I need more, I'm uneasy as the week begins again but I can't fight for a love that isn't there or must be hidden between corps and corporations. We rile for the weekend but the mean time leaves me lethargic. My past haunts me telephonically as I wisp in and out of daydreams, the rendering leaves time for such leisurely luxuries. I'd have to assume it's the friction or lack there of that would turn lovers to "brothers" but such assumptions leave me cold and yearning for something less familial. I ought to let it be a lesson in you scratch my back I'll scratch yours but this despondency leaves me itching for something more.  Maybe the novelty has worn off, maybe you only like me when you're drunk and lonely, maybe I've become too needy, but mostly I've turned to over analyzing instead of living in the glorious moment of now. Each new scene, each new experience as a life builds itself 3,000 miles away from what once was home. 

More Beauty

Now that the pressures of the weekend and simpleties of life have found a resting place in my psyche I can get back to the beautiful. I can stop blaming you for my fears and find myself once again entranced by the thought of you. I long to find your profile in the darkness of dawn and plant firm kisses on your shoulders while you waver between sleep and dreams. Pushing fears at you, holding back tears from you was a repercussion of running from you and now our Benjamin Button of a relationship finds middle age. Our time as roommates closes as I strike out on my own, we both continue to unfold like lotus, softer, smoother spots become exposed. Dark clouds cover what's left of a pumpkin colored moon as I slide down and sit back with a smitten smile. This beauty is far better than giving into the anxiety of a life yet to be lived. 

A Mild Separation Anxiety Attack

Caffeine and alcohol induced dehydration, I sweat alone in your sheets and put off the reality of 8 blocks. Time to get up young lady, time to grow up little girl. Maybe I can shower it off and disappear before you get back, a look of squinted confusion, all that's left of a hidden romance. Instead I rush to the bottoms of sweet flavored vodka drinks and rush towards your bed. Time to get up little girl, wipe the sleep from your eyes and start building your own bed. You made me want to read Cosmopolitan and then didn't answer my inquiries, you left me languishing and learned from my white lies and half truths and used them against me. It hurts today, it's really fucking scary today and I want to run to you and cry but that's the last place I should go. 

Standing alone in my empty house only now does the reality of what I've done set it in, I've traversed miles again, this time in a quest for experience this time alone. One solemn tear, streams down along my cheek just as I slip slid away again. I wanted you to be a security blanket, but it might be time to sleep alone. 

They Knew it to Be True Before it Was

Slumbering in your big bed, your fingers find mine and I flutter awake with a smile. I was trying to push out of my comfort zone but continue to find myself wrapped in your arms under your sheets. I fiend to dream of you all day, by night I nuzzle in your scent, you leave me grinning more than I am used to. We engage in a game of shhhhh, secrets abound, we delicately dance about the situation in hopes no one will notice. Each look calculated, each touch, each spoken word a novelty until we find ourselves alone and trip down hidden paths gripped tightly together stopping for long awaited kisses and embraces. I want to shower your neck with short kisses and find your gaze across every table. The pressure is tangible as our time playing house comes to a close, as neighbors will we find the same thrills or something more reasonably melancholy?