The Fill-in

As we seated in the distance
Were you lay resounds
The floods of your sways moans on my skin
The warmth of you fuses the walls of my mind
The vivid of the room where we were
The room that we are not
Everyday is the wake of my heart

The stance of your gay
The mischief of your yearning I see
With my eyes staring or eyes ashamed

Love is as it is
A confusing tale of an will
Wicked
Without permission

Such things we live for
We run from
We run to
We lose
We find
And the cycle continues again.