Thursday, July 2, 2009

And he touched me
Without any reason to believe
Without reason to hurt

My cold
My cold breathe
Swept him into a million pieces
Laying into a pile

So heavenly withdrawn from the ground
So perfectly withdrawn from the crowd
In so many ways he touched me

My shiver melted his fingers
Which lay stifled on my back
The part that dips and curves
The part that men drift their hands across
While walking into a crowded room

Filled with noise and contempt
The air was stagnant with wine and cigar smoke
Some fantasy that came true
While the drifting noise hit my ears
You shifted across the room in three steps
And placed your cold, dead hand on my hip
Leading me to the floor

The floor of where
I did not know
you hummed your beck and call
While I closed my eyes
The eyes, they bore into me
You
While we twirled

Your fingers yet again
They melted
My breathe on your neck
It made you crumble

No longer the little girl I used to be
You no longer the brazen man
The stench of wine kept us moving.