Sitting on my office chair,
scrolling through desktop folders,
A pair of hands come from behind,
to rest upon my shoulders…
The stroke and squeeze that follow
Evoke memories that make my heart soar,
But the reality brings it right back down,
‘Cause the hands on me aren’t yours…
There’s witchcraft in your lips,
and magic in your skin,
With every kiss and touch,
you silence the chaos within.
And on those days where the madness
feels just a little too much,
I reach inside my heart,
for the memory of your touch.