Telepathically, your thoughts race over me
They strike during the early morning hours
It’s that time again
But we won’t talk about that now
We’ll say so much that will fit in
The space between the silence
But those days where we lit up the sky,
We won’t talk about that now
The fantasies creep in
Some days, or most days,
On what we’ve done behind locked doors
Bodies exposed, breathing close
But we don’t talk about that now
Not now, not even close…
