I Got The Record That Proves Payment.

Don't you think
love use to be
harder than
this.

This fleeting human contact.
When the only
thing shared is a
room number, and
harsh touches.

You try to fix that
ache where your heartbeat
was, with either restless
nights or a
solo tug-of-war.

It's not going
to work
Can you keep your heart
pinned to
your sleeve rather than to
the inside of my
pants.

And you rip it off,
only to staple it back
on, because
sloppy love is all
the rage. And the ache
doesn't go away,
but you have a pretty face,
and a nice voice.
So it will sell.

Love use to be so much harder than this.

If this doesn't stir
something in your chest
I'm sure
it will crush the electricity
in your pants.