She's got her eyes on her hand holding somebody else's
and she's got tiny planets stuck on her tongue
She doesn't understand how nice his hands felt covering hers,
how it reminded her of cotton fields
Funny how he has cotton candy smiles to match everything else about him
He makes her want to shed her skin twenty times
until she's clean enough to touch
But he also makes her want to grab a syringe
and inject some insulin into her bloodstream—
The whole thought of him frightened her to catatonic
and she knew her diabetic heart cannot handle such sweetness
She wants so much to let go of his hand
but he would smile and he would laugh and he would be
heavenly
and she would hate herself for ruining this
So she watches on at her hand holding somebody else's
and grit her teeth to the tiny planets exploding in her mouth
Nice boys will be the death of every woman.