I wrote another poem,
About the time we spent alone,
Carved a love letter into a piece of stone,
Apart yet together in our own little broken hearts.
In the gouge that separates us I strung out a hammock,
We played the softest music and still shook the ground,
And everyone from all around saw us live our lives in perfect sound.
It rained petals and the floor was moonlit,
Since my heart was gruesomely bit,
And it bled a dark red, soaking the bed.
Silver sheets laced with the bliss of sexual desire,
Wearing a nineteen sixty’s attire,
And from the beating drum, your hearts finally won.
It’s a summer’s kiss, or a frosted body needing the warmth of another,
When I’m with you I get this feeling it’s just like no other,
And I hope you remember all of the little things I softly whisper.
