Electric Lines
Electric light on collarbone
lines I want to trace
long before my hand is brave enough
to touch the place
Every breath you pull
moves the shadow on the chest
painted heartbeat
put to the restless test
Leaning on the railing
with the city hum below
electric signs climbing up your throat
nice and slow
Streetlight marks the collarbone
in heavy yellow bars
shadows filling in the dips
brighter than the stars
Breeze sneaking up the shirt
raising up the skin
glancing back across the shoulder
letting trouble in
Eyes reflecting billboards
mouth is crooked sweet
looking for the trouble
standing on the street
Inside the room
the party drones
the playlist on a loop
drinks sweating rings upon the wood
Voices fold into a blur
laughter hitting high
plastic cups crushed
beneath the feet passing by
Out here the noise
is just a hum inside the pipes
distant and forgotten
like the other stripes
Light a cigarette
you know you’ll never smoke
ash trembling on the wind
a quiet little joke
Stepping on the balcony
boards begin to creak
hand brushing near the rail
warm against the cheek
Perfume mixing
with the rain and the city air
patience tested in the dark
standing over there
Laughing low
vibration underneath the palm
sound landing heavy
like a sudden calm
Hand finds the wrist
and settles on the spot
circling the pulse
and the heat that you got
Taxi honking down below
shouting for the keys
subway grinding underground
shaking up the knees
Trading heat in doses
incremental slow
sipping on the heavy thing
letting feeling grow
No promises upon the lip
no plan inside the stone
just two bodies in the night
standing way too near
letting chemistry decide
exactly why we’re here
Later walking back inside
the crowded room
hair mussed and cheeks flushed
within the gloom
Friends raising eyebrows
pretending not to see
how long we stood outside
in the privacy
But skin is humming
where the shoulder brushed the line
where the electric stripe
made you look like mine
Every train that passes by
will bring the memory back
of the current running
on the hidden track
Last guest leaves
the room is sinking dim
you step back to the balcony
on a whim
I follow
drawn by the light upon the skin
knowing that the collarbone
is where I fall in