The sweat vs. the cold

The sweat from my hands drips it's way down those vibrating strings that you used to swoon me
The hand on your hip is provocative the way you placed it - where it sits
But with skin so smooth it's hard not to touch you with callused hands
And holy is the night that we came together in ceremony
A ritualistic gaining of Rosetta Stone knowledge
Slipping right through the drunken places in the twisted nerves in our heads -
The very same ones that are getting on my nerves
And all is through before all is through
And I'm lost without a brain
And one day soon you'll be unmoved by a single thing that I say
When the cold sets in and the sweat on my skin has gone without a trace -
Upon that very same skin dried and cracked and unimmune to the harshness of the season change
And your strings that vibrate have all gone out of tune
And the provocative place that you have made is forever just an unhealed wound -
One that flares up and aches in the vestiges of a better day