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,
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.