It was about 8.
I sat alone, sipping a cup of coffee and reading this new book I have.
And then you came. All tall and suit and tie.
We only have beer, one for each and bottle it up til the store close.
Cheap beers over talks – much I miss taste of good quality booze. And remembering that once gin tonic feels great!
“I can make that.”
So here we are, at your apartment room. 35th floor.
Where city provides it’s light and motion of its breathe.
Sudden suffocation of its beats.
Sexual Healing on playing.
I turn my head and you’re still making that gin tonic.
2 fancy glasses in front of my eyes – and lo-fi echoing the room.
I scroll the books store at your shelf you have.
You read Paulo Coelho much, huh?
Smokes merely there, you ask me to open the window.
And we talk while sipping good quality of booze.
You got mad as I compare that fine wine smells with vodka.
The alcohol starts to kick in.
And I tell you I’ll go as soon as I sober up.
A firm hand grip me
Pull me closer
To beating heart layer with white shirt and suit.
To lip which resonance the vibe of night tune
I call your name
Lot and lot
As midnight swift to dawn and turn my city to it deep sleep death