It's the middle of May
And only when the sticky-sweet breeze caresses these stuccoed walls do they speak
They tell of silent tears
And unexpressed fears
And the way your cheek brushes mine
But the ocean-scent in my sheets has been replaced
With that of cat **** and *****
I am alone tonight
Old lovers replaced by cigarette highs, which are just as fleeting
But your eyes are the street lamps
Illuminating my bed through the blinds
And your touch echoes in my bones
As I whisper your name like a prayer
Before drifting into your arms again