Sipping red wine is new to me, I enjoy it nonetheless
I find myself sitting in the nook of the couch
Laying in between my legs and on my chest you sip your wine
I love feeling your weight resting on me, our bodies coming together

The channels flick by as we both look for something to watch this evening.
I'm looking out the window. The sun has sunk below the horizon.
Without second guessing myself I reach for the remote in your hand
The tv snaps off and I wait to meet your eyes. Eventually you turn around.

Your look is a curious one; eyes open waiting for me to say something.
Then your head tips back and your eyelids drop as I see a smirk escape.
Both glasses make their way to the table before you turn to straddle me.
Now my eyes look at you with curiosity. Your skin glowing in the light.

Leaning forward almost laying your chest on my face I smell your perfume.
Before you can turn the light off I could see you were wearing a white bra tonight.
The view disappears and I feel you rocking slowly back on top of my lap.
Your silhouette sits in front of the window, with all the orange, pinks, greens, and blues.

Your waist narrows a bit as your arms fold in to take your shirt off.
There's just enough light. The smile on your face, so lovely, so.... happy.
One arm reaches behind and your white bra, that's a dim blue now, slips off.
This half naked woman in the shadows, forever ingrained in my memory.

You make your way to my waist, lips hovering over the skin exposed on my hips.
I enjoy your many growls as you playfully gnash your teeth on my skin
-
Making your way back up to eye level with me my shirt comes off by your sweet graces.
While you slip my arms through the sleeves I kiss your shapely ******* under wild giggles.

The light is all but gone in the room and from the sky. I can still see you though.
Leaning back, then regaining posture, a wine glass finds its way in your hand.
A long sip and inhale- glass down- you spread yourself evenly on top of me.
I suddenly feel intoxicated as wine enters my mouth when we kiss- not from the wine though..

This is what it must feel like to be drunk..

i have visions of you sleeping well
in a dim-lit room, half-furnished house
these visions once told me you were alone, and cold
and this house... it wasn't a home

i had visions of you dreaming of me
longing for the few days, in which you return to me
sleeping on a mattress is never of ease
but not so bad when you have loving to look forward to

now here in my sleepless cavern those visions have changed
i still see you dreaming in sweet peace
but with another's arms wrapped around you
and this house is more furnished than i had thought

i no longer have visions of you coming home
with a smile on your face, and sweet treats in your hands
heart shaped budds and the sweetest finger hash
are no longer gifts, but regular occurrences

not since you told me, the way you think of me has changed
it's no longer good thoughts about our psychedelic whirlwind of a journey
but of the times we went awry

i'll never know what happened for those 3 days after we spent the night
i hope your phone died and wish that was the whole story
but these visions of you sleeping in a more-furnished house

make me think that house is now more of a home.

sometimes she would stand in my doorway
bright blue lace ******* that she knew were my favourite
and a little white shirt that was just a bit too small.

she'd enter my room ever so gently, after brushing her teeth in the morning
and pass me a stick of gum
to sweeten the taste of red wine and beer from the night before.

she would stand there in the doorway, with the cutest smirk on her dimpled cheek
and give her ***** a shake

as if to say
"yeah I'm cute, but how do you like me now?"

(she was always watching in the mirror anyway)

i would lay there and smile, and extend my reach
as she lightly pounced into my arms, and my bed

as if to say
"welcome home, sweetheart."
even though we'd just spent the night drunkenly dreaming

and warming each other's souls.

she would rest there smiling as i looked down from above
and tucked her hair behind her ears

i would kiss her 3 times;  on her third-eye and on her crown.

once because i loved her.
and twice more in case she didn't feel it the first time.

some days there was a look of wonder
an unknown amazement shining from her eyes

a look so indescribable, i can't help but think she wasn't real

couldn't have been real

but here she was beneath me.

staring up at me, as if i had the power to magically whisk us away, to a far away place

and here i am, convincing myself she wasn't real.

this is why i can't have nice things.

You love me.
Whats wrong with you?
You say it every time you hug me.
Why cant i say it ?
I'm afraid of it.
Why am afraid?
cause it could destroy me
if i were to obtain it.
Do I even contain it?
I don't believe I do
because if I were to
I'd love myself, and
you.
-*love

The coffee is brewing in the kitchen
God that line is played
but it is true
black drop after black drop
you are in bed still
I have not been much of a sleeper as of late
up by 830 down by 330
so I am brewing us a whole *** of coffee
which the *** says is twelve cups
but it is really six
even numbers are good like that
and now you dream in unmade bed
of things I wish I could drag kicking and screaming
into this reality
twelve(six) cups takes a little bit of time
so I’m writing you bleary eyed poetry
by the open window as winter’s last breath chills so nice
what are we going to do today?
get breakfast? go for a drive? I’ve got no work today
are we going to fight
cat and dogs and all that other crap?
oh we are?
then It’s a good job the coffee’s ready

You said that satire is not your favorite flavor ice cream
well sweetheart that is too **** bad
the broken clock on my wall
is right more than you’d think
and this broken record may make you seasick
but I wouldn’t trade it for all the pretty girl smiles in the world
you said I dress like a poor man when really I’m a smiling white faced teen
well you dress like one of my wet dreams
so who’s really winning?
so my lines are played out? Washed up? Dried up? Flat?
So my howl is more of a yawn? My leaves of grass more like turf?
well crucify me to your canvas little miss art
I look good in red and blue
you said I take things too personally
or not at all
you said that apathy isn’t really that attractive
well neither is *******, but somehow you pull it off
you said you think we’ve still got a few weeks of winter left
so how come I can feel the clouds beginning to break over head?
you’re right. I am wrong. You are wrong. I am wrong. You are right.
would you pass me the ashtray please
I think I may have gotten ahead of myself
this headache is too large for advil to tame
and my throat is itching again
so, just for a while, I think I’m going to put you on hold