Inside the dirty night club,
we sway gently to the music,
And stare deep into each others eyes.
Music pounding in my ears,
Blood pounding in your pants.
The rhythm of both become too much.
And you lead the way home,
To a cheap motel on the bad side of town,
The buttons from my second hand dress
clatter to the floor,
And your slightly frayed suit is thrown over top of them.
My eyes close tightly, and you open me widely.
You are lost in exstacy, and I am lost.
I know you're not listening, but I'm screaming your name.
We're both past caring.
Only you've stopped caring if I want this,
And I've stopped caring if that matters.

09/07/2003

09/07/2003

Author's Note: "I'm so scared that the way that I feel, is written all over my face. When you walk into the room, I want to find a hidding place."

Posted on 11/28/2003
Copyright © 2024 Barbara Griffith