I tell myself I write these words for no specific face,
But I can't lie, to my mind's eye, when placing them on pages
Bound in leather, held together, by the loves I never knew,
Doesn't matter who I flatter, still, I dream of you.
Your name, as sweet as honeysuckle, passes through my lips,
I miss the sin of your silk skin beneath my fingertips.
Thinking thoughts of drinking, drowning memories turned blue,
A million months of nights spent drunk, and still, I dream of you.