my name means more than these won't-look-past-your-shell and he's-the-king-of-make-believe, and i'm a hypocrite for allowing to slip my own touch of forget-me-not
i'm your work-in-progress, move-me-gently sort of go-to person and i burn my tongue with hardly-bitter sweet coffee, as a reminder that things last, and pride will scar your bones
I wish I knew love as well as you know me, in your simple way of making my cheeks turn red like the autumn blush staining the leaves of my homeland trees