Chris Michaud

The Job

by Chris Michaud

Her scent still lingers on the pillow beside me,
The emptiness inside is bringing itself up to the surface again
And in your absence grows a blue kind of sadness,
The feeling of being alone is creeping up against me still.
Your work tie hangs on the doorknob,
Like the ghost of your presence,
Blue eyes the morning brings locked to mine
And in my arms i hold you close to my chest,
In this beautiful madness I'm not afraid to let go,
But I won't unless you ask me to.
So hold onto the fire that you came calling in with,
The fire under the covers that we seem to've been born with
A mutual attraction to the forces of nature,
And bruised collarbones and skin under our Fingernails show just where we've been.
Mark your path with an x just west of my spine,
I'll swim with the fishes down by your tattoo line,
We mix, we mingle, we cross, we entwine,
We catalyze this flame with our bodies combined.
Your hand in mine in the morning's light,
You say something in your sleep but I can't quite hear your voice
And if I had a choice, I'd lay here all day long,
With you beside me I wouldn't want to feel anything else.
Your work tie still hangs on the doorknob,
Playing keep away with the idea that you won't be back for a while
And it's desolate, this space in my chest,
When I think of the time I'll be spending all by myself.
So I'll hold onto the line you've thrown across the way for me,
The radio signal broadcast tonight,
A beacon for me to follow as I look to the sky,
Scanning satellites, astronomizing my plight and
I wonder sometimes, if the stars I was looking for
Shine brighter when I'm not searching at all
But the one I've found holds onto my heart
And holds onto my light like no other.
Your nails in my back
And your teeth on my lips
And the sweat on the sheets beneath us
The moonlight's riding in through the blinds
And the air conditioning chill will sweep us back under
You're in my arms,
My hands in your hair
And mouth against your neck,
Tongue flickering,
Your spine arched beneath
And we're breathing heavy,
You're breathing hot against my skin...
So you hold onto the baseball jersey,
The cloverleaf, the good luck charms I'll let you keep
A memory, a keepsake, a positive reminder
That it's only you I dream of when I'm asleep
You waved goodbye out of that parking garage
Through the steel grated fence,
And as you drove away I looked to the sky and wondered
Just when and if I'd ever get to see you again.

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On The Job by Chris Michaud

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