I hate the boys that look at you on the street and believe you are wonderful for one moment
When I am thinking of you always
And drive for hours to see your face.
I hate the things they say to you
About your hair
Your clothes
Your body
When they think that they deserve it,
That you owe them something,
And I can't even form one word to tell you when you look beautiful.
I can't be meant for you.
I can't be who you need
But can I be wrong if I don't flinch when you reach for me?