Just like the other times, we’re here once again, baring our souls and uncovered skin.
We couldn’t help it, once again. Another case of “You say he’s just a friend."
We had to go back for thirds or whatever serving this is. We never really worried about the numbers, just the handling of this forever-unfinished business.
Whatever you said worked because just like all of those other nights, I’m here.
You leave the door open and go back to sleep as I commence to carrying out this all too familiar late night creep.
It never really HAS to be late but these hours have a way holding our weight.
I know that I have no business here. My flight check-in and departure times are all too near.
We don’t care.
It all seems worth it when you’re tapping deep below this melanin surface.
You have a way of always striking gold.
Again and again.
It’s one of those guilty pleasures that you never really plan on giving up.
We never really cared to explain why because we never really cared enough.
Never cared enough for the opinion of others about what goes on beneath those love stained sheets and covers.
This is always an indescribable high.
Somehow the adrenaline rush never disappears. Sometimes I feel as though the rush cancels out all of our fears.
We never really think about the backlash.
There’s always something more in store.
Always a reason to come back for more.
Before we know it, the sun is rising. The alarm goes off.
I get just a few seconds to stare at your sun-kissed skin.
Just as soon as I can pull myself together, I’m hauling ass to catch a flight.
Until we meet again.