I had a dream about you,
but it wasn't in the night.
It was in the haze of midday.
It was wrong,
but it was right.
It was you and me in your car
in the dark.
There wasn't a lot of talking,
we'd kind of skipped that part.
We'd run out of words to say,
out of dances,
out of games to play.
So you let your hands do the talking.
I always knew
they could make me sing.
And it was dark but I was blushing,
cause you hadn't lost that look.
That one that says that you know
exactly what you do to me.
Do you know?
Do you know what you do to me?
If not, then you can check my dreams.
You'll find a long list
of hazy scenes
that all end up
with your hands on me.
Do you hear my heart
when you smile at me?
Everyone must,
it has my ears ringing.
And I won't say I need you,
but you better believe,
I try, but can't hide
when I want something.
YOU ARE READING
The Tempest Collection
PoetryIt's icy and suddenly it's my job to clean it up. Good thing I sort of know what I'm doing now.