My finger traces a line of her sweat, slowly followed by my tongue.
As she lies in my bed, yet wearing his ring, we know what we’re doing is wrong.
She tells me we’ll soon be together, that she just needs to sort out her head,
Then she takes off his ring, curls up in my arms and lays in the tears she’s shed.
She once said that she dreams about me as he lies at her side, asleep
And how she wishes it was me she had with her to hold and keep.
I want to make everything better, I only wish that I could,
But there’s no turning the clock back, ’cause if there were, we would.
I wrote this in 1995 on the night after my eighteenth birthday. I’d just realised that the woman I loved was never going to leave her husband, and this was my way of saying goodbye to the relationship. We stopped seeing each other just after Millenium Eve…