Call me on Essex, beg me back to your room..

Tonight I drove past my house, to sit parked on Essex drive, where I had parked when we had that phone call when I left you outside the bar. The night that everything had changed. When we knew that we had life to deal with for the first time since we had fallen together. You fell apart when reality shook you.
I was sitting on Essex drive when you called me. I was staring at the three red blinking towers on the hills in the distance. you called me when you returned to your room and I wasnt there, waiting for you. I drove to you that night, like I always used to.

we were sorry for what we had done to eachother. I was sorry because I thought that our mistake had broken the spirit in us. The spirit in us to always be free, to love openly, to dance like children and laugh like we were actually funny.

I noticed it all, the way your eyes would smile at me with my feet out your window, with the feathers at my neck, and my hand on your lap. It all plays like a split screen movie or a teenage love song. The looks, the glances, the words we didnt have to say from across the room. Using your chest for a pillow and my legs as a blanket.

The mornings. The mornings.... those are words enough.

and then when they became afternoons. The corner store, the blankets, the bottled coca-colas battling for room next to last night's beer on the side table.
The nights, the street lights, the bedroom window smokes, the legs touching, low voices, nodding, tracing words on skin.

There go the hours. and I feel your skin.

Again and again I feel the hours.