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