A Saturday Night at Home

I feel like a ghost when I’m walking the floors of my parents’ home

It’s December and it hasn’t snowed and I see your lights coming down the road

The grass is dead and hasn’t been mowed since August

Your front tire squeaks as you park and make your way across the yard

And into my back door where memories of us crash like the waves meeting the shore

 

You make your way into my arms for a hug and I breathe in your skin

I’m taken back to the times we used to spin that bottle

I had my hand on the throttle ready for your kiss

But we were just kids and the first time we kissed I missed your mouth

 

But now you’re pushing me down on the couch

And I’m sixteen again and all I can see is the top of your head

Still to this day when you touch me I melt

Because your hands are the softest things I’ve ever felt

Then suddenly you’re taking off my belt

 

Now I’m pushing you up the stairs while my fingers search your hair

And the sweat on your neck is a dare, daring me to bare the fact that

You and I can’t change our past and that when tomorrow comes

I’ll be chasing the sun

 

But for tonight, I’ll let my lips wander

And I’ll make your breathing longer and harder and farther apart

And when you reach up to grab me

Your hands will go straight through my rib cage

And right to my heart

 

So when our skin is joined together in sweat

And you make your way off of me and to your side of the bed

And after I’ve cleared everything out of my head

I’ll leave you like a whisper in the wind

But you and I both know you’ll see me again