I can feel your body turning. I can still taste your last night’s wine.
I can hear your blood is singing. I can feel your hand in mine.
I still taste tears like stagnant oceans. Even though you never cry.
I hope I die and am forgotten.
I hope it’s quiet where I lie.

Well it was one of those days
The kind where even flies can’t be bothered to rise above the haze
The kind where I can walk the downtown streets
Listening to Brian Wilson and “Songs of Love”, see and saunter to the beat
And when the sheets are crumpled at our feet
We sleep with only fingers touching – breathless – helpless in the heat.

The cars ride by on roads alive
Heat rising like a serpent’s tongue, licking windshields as they drive.
You drift in and out of focus now.
As my eyes adjust to darkness, I fleetingly wonder how

I can feel your body turning. I can still taste your last night’s wine.
I can hear your blood is singing. I can feel your hand in mine.
I still taste tears like stagnant oceans, though I never see you cry.
I hope I die and am forgotten.
I hope it’s quiet where I lie.