When souls like ours meet;
There's no need to speak.
Locked lips.
Guns loaded.
The air is thick,
and the tension is growing.
Sweaty palms
and a nervous step;
time edges closer to our ascent.
Will you let me in?
Rampant heart; blood's grown thin.
Words pour out of me;
a flood of emotion.
As I grow weak to this notion;
held captive in the depths of your eyes.
Fingers rush to the trigger,
but I am gun-shy.
Spellbound and confound by the strings you are pulling.
Marionette nightmare.
In my sweetest dreams you set me free,
with the softest caress of your lips.