Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Sometimes Lover

Tiptoe through the darkness.
Bare feet on night cold timber.
Push you out through back door.
It's best not to let you linger.

That one last kiss,
still so sweet on my lips.
The shivering memory,
of your tracing fingertips.

Quickly back to bedroom,
pretending never to have woken.
No one needs to know,
just how much we both are broken.

Sometimes we are more than lovers,
Sometimes less than friends.
It's hard to tell where one starts,
and where the other ends.

Tangled friends with benefits,
when we even talk at all.
Disinterest and infatuation,
an endless rise and fall.

Will I see you next,
in weeks or months or a year?
Will I even recognise your face,
if you ever come back here?

It's a strange thing to consider,
as my skin still tingles from last night.
I trace the spots your lips fell,
in the dawning of daylight,

I'm still living in the memory,
of your body pressed on mine.
I wonder if I would miss you,
if this was our last time.

This is something special,
in how this doesn't mean much.
How I'm hungry for your love,
but only when we touch.

The perfect storm of nothing,
and loving rolled into one.
Of no one getting hurt feelings,
because all we have is fun.

Don't read too much into it,
but I guess I should say.
My sometimes friend and lover,
happy valentines day.

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