Black Beneath My Skin

Baby, I wanna pull you

into the black beneath my skin,

where the city lights die quiet

and all the bad thoughts live.

I wanna feel your shadow

moving slowly over mine,

your hands rough at my waistline,

your teeth grazing my spine.

There’s smoke hanging in the room,

old records crying low,

and your eyes look half dangerous,

half like somewhere I could go.

That’s what ruins me.

Not the wanting.

Not the heat.

It’s the way you say my name

like it means something when you speak.

Desire, I’m starving,

so tell me will you feed me?

How do you want me?

On my knees or in your dreams, baby?

I wanna crawl inside your mind,

tear the darkness from your chest,

kiss every ugly little wound

until it trembles into rest.

And I know this kind of hunger

never comes without a cost,

two broken souls in dim light

trying hard not to get lost.

But then you touch me slower,

like maybe you understand

that wild women don’t need saving,

just someone willing to withstand

the storm inside their bloodstream,

the wolf beneath their ribs,

the fear that if they love too hard

they’ll vanish into it.

The room feels almost holy,

all black leather, sweat, and sin,

your mouth just barely on mine

while my pulse caves in again.

And God, if you called this love

I’d probably run for miles…

but the way you pull me closer

makes me wanna stay awhile