he wants me, but doesn't know how to get close to me.
i am dangerous,
a girl dressed in caution tape,
a ticking time bomb who wears too much mascara.
the cameras in his pupils record my hands tucked into my sleeves,
the careful way my eyes dart around,
and they send little warning messages to the part of his brain
that wants to **** me on his mother's blue couch.
noted: how i rarely text back,
how my smiles are too frequent to be genuine,
how i pull him along on a string with no intention of committment.
he doesn't know, not really, but i'm sure he can see
the storm lurking deep in my eyes.
being only a fledgling sailor, he is afraid to steer his ship in my direction.
i do not blame him.
i am dangerous,
a girl dressed in caution tape,
i am a ticking time bomb, and i have his name written all over me.