I think the oxytocin
Is clouding my judgement
Your fingers softly entangled
In mine
Slow movements
Chest against chest
The question marks we exchange
In the spaces between moments
And I can’t tell if it’s the heat
Of this moment, or the warmth
Of us that’s got under my skin
But I’m bored here without you
Having to catch myself
Before my imagination
Turns this game into a weapon