Accustumed to the taste
of kisses laced with cigarettes.
Still wondering if I'm in love yet,
but sure of [two] being my favorite
letter in the alphabet.

A kiss on each lip.
Mind stops thinking
once hands reach her hips.

Previous verse too explicit.
Lost the license to my innocence.
Missing her precious presence in
this instance and as I yearn for her to not
be so distant I'm taught to balance the
act of being patient.

Distinguished marks on necks
show others where our night led
and if this is the way we're starting
I wonder what step for us is next.

Body has become a canvas that she
uses to mark her territory, and she
reveals her desires to see me have
become unhealthy.

Unconsciously feeling guilty for making
her become addicted to each letter
I write her. Personal like a writer and
creating circuits made of love with this
pen I call a wire.

Last verse. Do the words make it better
or worse? Would you care to take the
burden of breaking this curse? Falling in
love for the second time. [two] more than
just a letter and ever since you showed
up its all been a bit better.