Brandy

At two thirty in the morning, the rain is splashing against my window,
Almost breaking it into a thousand pieces... like you broke me...
And here I sit in the middle of my bed with a glass of brandy,
Drinking the bottle dry like the thirsty in Sahara...
Wondering where you are, if you're all right...
And I can feel the warmth from the drink touch my skin,
In all the places your kisses should have landed...
On my shoulder, on my throat, on my hips,
Where your fingertips should have left bruises,
And it's so funny, at three in the morning now,
That when I can't think straight, yet again,
My thoughts circle back to you like they always have,
And I am left stranded in the middle of my bed,
With an empty bottle of brandy on my desk,
With a wayward hand in my curly hair...
Wondering where you landed this time
If I'll see you again...