Between your eyes and your lips, your heart and your bed; let me count the distance. Between the secret and the truth, my body to yours, I can count the heartbeats. I count the moments between anguish and desire, hate and love, sex and glory, and I get tired of all of those numbers between us. The division, the separation, the words from your tongue and the touch of your hand.

You rain against me, beat against me, that constant reminder of what I've lost and what I've gained. Your notes from your lips and why should I bother counting the number of times I've heard those lies, pressed against my collarbone, stinging and sweet.

I count the number of times I've said I love you and in the end, it all comes down to how many times I've loved you without speaking.

feedback