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And eventually I will forget the nights in your car The way we fogged up the glass Breathing but not The way I was afraid to step outside the door Because the dirt might tell the tale But your eyes do tell the story The cliche of piercing blue Knowing too much of me And I, not enough of you Your freckles I traced the outline And the curls of your hair that you wear so sharply these days We hardly make eye contact

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Written by

tawny-alverston

American

Published: Jan 2, 2011
LinesWords: 1384

Notes: Because poetry is the best medicine. (:

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