Peek-a-boo, I see you
Underneath the ***** lunch tables
We yearn to hold hands but are unable

Goodnight moon, see you soon
We live for the weekends with reckless abandon
His mannerisms, I just can't understand him

What happens in Vegas stays
And you are quite a gamble

They were making out, bodies pressed
against the high school wall.

Behind them, posters of soldiers
who have died to serve their country
were plastered.

They were making out, bodies pressed
against the high school wall.

Their ***** selves were blocking the picture of a marine.

And they didn't even notice.

I find that
Freckles seem to make the strangest shapes.

I find that I lose myself
With the connect the dots game
On your face.
I count three on your neck
Below your soft forest of hair.
A pointed constellation.
I imagine inside the freckle triangle,
It says: kiss here.
And kiss you I do.

I find that
Your freckles tell me where to travel with my lips.
I am going down down down
And now there's goosebumps.
Ah, the land is not fallow yet.
Further and further.
One dot, two dots, small dots, big dots.

I find that
My mouth is growing warm with
The taste of your pastures
Enveloping it.
I am hungry.

I find that
The land further down is bare.
A desert.
No more freckles to follow.
I look up for the first time,
And there you are,
Gasping for air.

My turn.

That moment.
Oh so fragile and sweet.
But what becomes of it
If 'us' ends in defeat?

That potential.
The most beautiful thing of all.
It occurs before it all begins
And before it all will fall.

Beads hanging from the lights
The room is filled with cold air
I'm just such a crazy sight
Especially with my wild hair

A mirror hung just right for me
But much too short for you
There's nowhere else we should be
And we'll find plenty of things to do

A stereo playing your favorite CD
And I make the lights dim
You really want to be with me
And I'm about to let you in

Are you feeling a little scared?
I feel your heart on mine
The sheets are still warm right there
Where we made love for the first time

Today I gave my love away
To someone I won't regret
It feels so good to feel this way
With someone I'll never forget

I'll keep this memory in my room
And save it for a rainy day
I know I'll see that special boy soon
This is a love story told my way

Let me tell you about myself.
I am a mosquito magnet.
I have little scars of itchy memories all over my scrawny legs.
But I think it means my blood is sacred.
I find my laugh unique and one of a kind.
My walk, resembling more of a bowlegged wobble, allows me to stand out against the crowd.
(My walk isn't that bad, by the way, I was merely exaggerating for stylistic purposes.)
What's more, the fact that I am prone to blushing at even the slightest glance my way is kldjaf;ldjfoiad;htija;ji;ajf.
I love it.
My clumsiness only adds meaning to the moments in which I am fleetingly graceful.
Yes, my posture is rough around the edges,
But it signifies that I have been around the world a few times.
At least I don't jut out my pretty decently sized *******.
You're welcome.
I find my lack of arguing skills in the moment cute.
My mistakes are adorable, and my obvious flaws are endearing.
The fact I can't **** an ant without showing sympathy is amiable.

If only somebody thought the same way about me.
If only people looked and analyzed others as closely as I do.
They would see.
That way I wouldn't be the only one loving myself. (Or trying to.)

If dying is similar to sleep,
I'll lie in bed and count the sheep
They'll smile at me in passing-by,
And wait for me on the other side.

All will be glad when I finally come
The sheep will dance, and laugh and run.
And all the animals will see
That dying was the fate for me.

My loved ones back home won't understand
"We want you back," They'll cry in demand
But alas, I am much happier here
With the sheep, the birds, the rabbits and deer.

For what I lacked in life I have in death
And I'll never return to breathing a breath
If dying is sleeping, I'll sleep all day
As long as with the sheep I will stay.