Burning the Bridge

There are copied thoughts formulated in separate minds, But forlorn emotions surge my veins. A mosh pit of couples encompasses us in a tent of darkness, leaving four senses: My arms melt around his neck but as I lay my head his chest tenses. Inhaling his cologne mixed with musty sweat makes my lungs heavy with pain. My heart sheds a tear with each lingering touch of skin to skin; I’m tripping in unexplored, unwanted territory, Yet he shows no sign of scare in singing. My butterflies escape through the lock to my den. As I break to the surface, reality hits with the taste of salt. No longer a barrier, except for his arms holding me up. The eyes tell it all though: It was simply the song setting the tone. I’m still on the other side of the bridge.