She wants me to stay
but stranger's beds
never stay warm long
and I've always loved the leaving
more.
All this unspoken misery is
beating me into submission
with every glance,
blissfully without bliss.
No hope.
And I'd love a bit more honesty
when every touch feels misleading,
but know that I'm a sucker
for her brand of anything.
She smells like heaven maybe
and my fingers long to explore
her terrain once more.
She's uncharted, untamed;
her every word lands right on the floor
for me to scavenge.
And I'm collecting memories.
Nowhere is home anymore,
nobody is anyone
and when everything fades to black
just mark me on her map.
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