Junk Writing.

That feeling when I touch your skin..

The need to know whats underneath.

What lies beyond the tattoos and the callused fingers

from late nights spent making love to your guitar.

Im reaching for mornings in beds, where we take turns

watching each other breath in the morning sun.

Im grasping for kisses that leave me breathless

from a contact high.

Im fighting thoughts of chaos as my mind and these days decide

a fate of their own.

As promises that could never be kept escape my lips

faster then the apology that follows.

We take turns tossed into indecision as if todays regrets

will hold up with tomorrows rising sun;

because we both know that 3 a.m. doesnt last forever

& the heat left in the pit of your stomach from my lightening strike will

fade out faster then last weeks latest Breaking News..

At least until the next time I find a way to bring the

broken moon back to life.