With mouths loosely whispering words,

a grammar fire can easily take hold.

I warned you about our conversations,

so out of control, its best to escape them.

I like your clean, yet cluttered room.

I love when I can smell my cologne on you.

Yesterday, you wanted to make love

you invited me to come and lay down,

shoulder to shoulder. I told you

we were doing something different.

Boy to boy or girl to girl it doesn’t matter

this kind of fever burns in everyone.

Especially when we use our sensual words,

the ones we usually keep all locked up.

There are those 100 year fires,

we seem start every time we’re together.

We can consider ourselves,

“Fucking arsonists.”

Having burnt up so much in your bed.

I bit your tongue,

to stop the words

from coming out. It’s no wonder

we’ve left nothing for the others to enjoy.

I love you, being inside me.

Me sleeping inside you and yours.

With arms wrapped around a hose

trying desperately to fight a fire

it’s obviously been out of control

for a while now. It’s too bad

we left this mess of ours,

all these dreadful ashes in everything.

I just want to lay with you again,

in your bed that used to be clean.

I wonder if we knocked it off,

that after a while the fires would

put themselves out.

We could stop and read each other books

giving everything time to heal

so things could start to grow back.

When I see you tonight

feel free to kiss my face, but please

don’t use our private set of words.

Well, it’s one word really,

that starts the fucking blaze

that will easily burn

out of control again.

3 thoughts on “Grammar Fire

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