Telepathically, your thoughts race over me

They strike during the early morning hours

It’s that time again

But we won’t talk about that now

 

We’ll say so much that will fit in

The space between the silence 

But those days where we lit up the sky

We won’t talk about that now

 

But the fantasies creep in

Some days, or most days,

On what we’ve done behind locked doors

Bodies exposed, breathing close

But we don’t talk about that now

 

Not now, not even close...