Your Poetry Dot Com - I think you're bionic.

It's Christmas eve and I'm making shapes with my breath
Like you did in the dead of summer.
You're miles away, across the tracks,
But we taste the same fire tonight
Through a secret path suspended in mind.
And we're spitting flames so hard it's hot to the touch.
I can't catch your gaze...ing eyes have so much held back, she said.
She takes your breath, she steals my words.
We're lurking in fog and your voice starts to slur.
I want you in my lungs
And everwhere in between,
Your aftertaste and the stand on my hands...
They can arrest my every dream
Or I can dream of sober smiles.
Trace the veins gripping my eyes
And convict me of falling into deceit.
I never thought I'd dance with the devil,
But now you're in my dreams and
We can't wake up and fall apart.
And we can't hold fire without getting scarred.
I'm tasting dirty flames
And you look appealingly cashed.
I can't run on empty without a wish
But my fuel is out and my heart is scorched.
I now have nothing but black lungs as my consolation prize,
And your lying grin melted into my memory,
Burned onto my eyes.

This poem is Copyright © drapes