The sheer thought of you makes me drunk.
A slick sheen you cover my body with is sticky to the touch.
My bed is no longer for sleeping,
But instead for dreaming.
Dreaming of you,
And your black hair,
And your face,
And your eyes so deep,
If you dropped a penny,
You\'d never hear it land.
Keep holding me at arms length,
And I will wait forever;
Grateful that your hands are gripping me at all.
A mantra is rotting in my brain,
But despite what I tell myself,
You are not just another face.
You are the face,
The face of peace and tranquility,
The face I live for and the face I long for.
At least look me in the eyes when you twist the knife.
It\'ll make it all the more tantalizing,
For you and me.