It's too hot to sleep
Not that the room isn't cold
Or the bedsheets aren't cool
It's just that even lying here awake
I can't help but dream of you
All I can see is the magic of your eyes
And the mischief in your grin
And feel the desperation
to taste the madness
Of the soul you wear beneath your skin
And dance to the rhythm of your pulse
Or to die briefly
of happiness one more time
by the simple act
Of just holding your hand