I want to live with you in a shotgun house
open the doors and let the breeze roll
through
I want to lie with you on a bed of clean
white sheets
and trace the contour of your skin
against the reflected light
I want to hear your bare feet pad softly
on dark wooden floors
I want to pass the night with you in front
of open windows
and talk about the patterns of human
emotions and the naming of things
I want to build a fire on a beach with you
and burn driftwood with old memories
all good things will end, like the morning
light that grew to light our
bodies, hip to hip
and you told me you wouldn't say goodbye
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC
I want to live with you in a shotgun house
open the doors and let the breeze roll
through
I want to lie with you on a bed of clean
white sheets
and trace the contour of your skin
against the reflected light
I want to hear your bare feet pad softly
on dark wooden floors
I want to pass the night with you in front
of open windows
and talk about the patterns of human
emotions and the naming of things
I want to build a fire on a beach with you
and burn driftwood with old memories
all good things will end, like the morning
light that grew to light our
bodies, hip to hip
and you told me you wouldn't say goodbye
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