I have this fantasy
Where I run into you at an airport.
At first, our eyes meet briefly
As we walk.
We both turn back and think
Our tongues slowly wrap around
Each others' names.
I'm not sure if we're on the same flight.
But you tell me how good I look,
As I walk away.
Calling me back
And there's that fire again, same as that night
On the 31st floor
At the Shangri-La.
Wasting the room.