my warmth aches
for the pleasure it might receive
brought forth by the rigidity
of your wanton lust

my eyes grow heavy
saturated with tears and the syrup
of peaches, sweet nectar falls
slow molasses, dripping down my cheeks

the sun grows cold against my skin,
ashamed i've lost my way again,
misguided by empty compliments
and warm, callused hands

your fingers fit perfectly inside me
and melt away every inch of my being
i float farther towards paradise
when you're feeling my pulse

i missed you in the french alps
and was blue in the corridor, stained
with age and mystery from weary-eyed
girls luring men through broken shutters

paris is *****, you wouldn't like it there,
but rome is divine, with magic in the air
hold me close in your suit coat with wine in my veins
and thrill me above the streets, watch me cry out and pray