Stuck in a sticky Summer Saturday I can see how our chests press together, Sheets wet with sweat, in my bed, one lone ray of sunlight seeps through the printed feather curtains. One more go, then maybe a bath, the cool water cleaning our legs of love. Never before have we left just like that, There's always at least two more times in us. Right now I feel the weather worsening, And I cannot bear to prepare my heart To just defensively rehearse the scene If instead we see ourselves torn apart. You to Florida and I still right here, My hands always shake when I taste that fear.