Am I thinking too much
Or is it too little ?
Consumed with what's in between
I found you in the middle
so riddle me this
there's a flick in my wrist
it wants to push and press
breathlessness
from under your hips
out of your lips
i want you to grip both my shoulders
turn your weight into shapes
I'll hold, unfold and then smoulder
your tongues a bit young
for my taste when I'm sober
i'm not one to hold back
turn this hole in my face to it's holster
i'm not bold but I'm brave
I'll probably break if I hold her
& the older I get
seems the more I grow colder
it was the cold that unfolded
the roll of my boulder
she's the ice in the road
that stole the control
I lost in October