i crave something different
this time around
i'm not searching for answers
or creating the questions
my shell has eroded
plain to see
leaving a pale-skinned lamb
to bake in the sun
whether its 8 in the morning
or a quarter to 2
the mornings are vacant
without you
while i might be hiding
my craving for touch
at least i'm not hiding
a closeted lust for everyone
who shows you fabricated trust