Your Lyrics.
In train stations,
Running up escalators,
Fuelled by the butterflies,
In my stomach, and lower.
Barely there kisses,
Like an injection of cocaine,
Straight to the heart.
I’m not sure I can take much more.
And later, alone.
The phantom kisses,
Imprinted on my skin,
By the searching intensity of your lips.
I can still trace the shiny trail,
With my (quickening) pulse.
Tiny, invisible memories,
Like pinpricks. Unrefined poetry.
You write your lyrics on my skin.
I give them back to you in words.
