Sometimes, usually late at night when I’ve had a few vodka tonics and I’m feeling warm and fuzzy on the insides,
Or in the hours between midnight and dawn that I sometimes stay up for just to hear that kind of silence,
I think about you, even though I shouldn’t.

Thoughts just surge up and my tired, intoxicated brain doesn’t have the power to push them down again where they belong,
In the dark recesses of my mind reserved for thoughts that aren’t meant for the light of sun or moon.

My vivid imagination often gets the best of me and I end up far away, thinking of how it would feel to have every part of me pressed against every part of you,
To feel your pulse race against my fingertips//to taste you in my mouth
Or about the way your hands would feel as you traced the patches of sunlight moving over my skin from the open window above your bed.
My imagination thinks you would be perfect.

And because of that it’s probably best of we never lock eyes from across a crowded room.
You have a lot to live up to.

05/19/2010

Author's Note: This is why I can't let my mind wander off on it's own too much. There's no control over where it ends up.

Posted on 05/19/2010
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