you could cut the sexual tension with a butter knife
but neither one of us really cared about what the other one had to say
with our strange in-congruent lives and our eternal fear of internal pain
it can really take its toll when you are vulnerable
sitting at the end of the street, contemplating the site of the inevitable
I took a right into a spiderweb of streetlights
trickling into the abysmal blackness of the night
you could cut the sexual tension with a butter knife
and neither one of us cared where we stopped
with our reasonably similar motives
and our never ending lust for physical eruption
it can really take its toll when you are vulnerable
I turned the engine off and the crickets went wild
into an awkward silence as our faces splashed together
like the moon sinking into the earth
I disappeared into her mouth and my shoulders sank
my legs went numb as she playfully fault back
in a manner that seemed to be out of her control
the moon sat on the dash like an owl in the trees
my fingers began to clench and her finger nails plowed my skin
sending slim cascades of wine colored blood down my spine
we lie like lions on a tree branch as the sun comes up
breathing in the atmosphere and taking in the sounds
for a brief moment we were in tune with each other
affection seems welcomed and time moves slower
the road back seems longer when the key hits the ignition
everything goes back to normal even the tension
it all builds up then someone gets cut with a butter knife