It feels like rain and I wonder
who’ll be laying in your arms tonight
making a love sandwich pressed
against your chest as you fall asleep,
grumbling phrases
in your native language
But I really can’t do this to myself
it’s probably best that I don’t imagine
these feelings misleading me along
some wrong pathway toward
your encrypted heart
I’d better not start feeding myself
some forlorn torture in needing
to kiss your lips, or stroke your hips
or float below you, poised and posed
to show you exactly just how I love
it when you thrust forward to my touch
This is nearly all too much of a very
cold take
that, for such a very smart man
you can’t seem to understand
You’ve made a big mistake.
I’ll stay in tonight, remain steadfast,
smug and righteous as I chain smoke
alone and wait
on the four or more
hours delayed rain that I know
is coming tonight
Share this
Tell me what you think before we both die
