Is it love? Or is it simply
just healing the wounds?
Like snakes weave tracks in the sand as
easily as if they were slices of
butter, waiting to be bled.
Where do thy affections lie-in
the past, present or future
dancers? Their legs keep warm to
the pace of the times, and leave
you to your sleepless numbers.
Your dreams they are no reality
for when you wake. So keep on,
resting the tempered head on your
lovers shoulder's, holding her softly
to the only thing you know
can fix you.