there are those who don't understand
the lackadaisical way with we carry our love
they just don't get it:

sometimes passion can smother

i love to watch you watch me work the room
returning to you with free drinks, a cigarette
you reward me with a wink and a smile
and i believe that's how they say we'd go together
baby
like mischief and mayhem
and really, it's ok with me
if you'd rather not feel just yet
i'm combustible with all this excessive passion
and i love to make you tell me that i've
got
so
fucking
much
charisma
and you
think yourself this enigmatic shadow
with a strong and quiet presence
true
to an extent
my arsonist's blaze
to your stoic firewall

but they never hear your whispersong

"whenever i'm alone with you
you make me feel like i am young again"

question baby:
which of us has the ailment
which of us is the cure?

However far away, I will always love you

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