Firewater

Tonight I set out
on a journey from behind your ears and your neck down
along the sharp curves of your spine.
I hear you whispering
like a seashell that is trying to keep the ocean in,
tucked in the sand dunes of your skin.
No matter how hard that we beg, the miles take you away,
and there’s nothing that we can say.
You’re leaving me and I realize this, hell has an address
and I’m standing on its doorstep.
And later on I ignore the calls
while I watch the shapes our shadows take dancing on the walls.
I’m here with you, and you are here with me, and nothing can go wrong,
at least until the morning comes.
But I can almost see the sunlight through the window,
and I can almost taste the warm tears in your eyes,
so I wrap my arms around your waist and pull you close to say,
“Endlessly, you belong with me.”
No matter how hard that we beg, the miles take you away,
and there’s nothing that we can say.
You’re leaving me and I realize this, hell has an address
and I’m standing on its doorstep.
There’s no pain I won’t endure
to keep my fingers locked in yours;
no distance I won’t go.
Goodbye Sky Harbor. Over, out, alone.