you have this subtle curl of hair
just behind your ear
& I always see it when you're
driving
'cause I can't ever look right at
you
your gaze is pure heat
& I may begin to
evaporate
given enough
time

your pedestal
is made out of innocence
as well
& I cannot help but wonder
if we were always meant
for a lost boys
sort of life
never truly growing
old

we could paint our own
dinners
we could stop cashing in on
the cold

I could age gracefully as long
as I live by the
water

where the sun is always
warm
& my skin is made of
gold