in the dark
in the half dark and in the half light of the half conscious
and fully awake
in the late and in the early
and in the silence of the overbearing noises a small sound
slides through,
and the butterflies in your stomach have all turned to
rocs
and you can't breathe and you can only think if only there was some way
because half concealed glances and whispered pleas just don't
cut it.
you need something you can touch.