she's married, but you're lost in between the sheets of her four poster bed
and rational words like,
stop, and,
this is a bad idea,
are far from your head.
she's married, but you're thinking you could see a future if you squint hard enough
she's married, and you are too, but more to the idea of love
not so much to the guy sitting across from you both asking you how your day was.
and there are things in this world that you simply don't touch unless you want to get burned
like poison ivy or fire
or brown haired
green eyed
fair skinned liars
just to name a few.
she's married, but her lips taste just like honeydew and
there's a little piece of her inside you and
everywhere you go
everything you do
you can feel her
i mean, really feel her
but she's married, so there's not much you can do
she's married, my love, just-
not to you.