My curfew is twelve

And tonight I ran home barefoot
Because my mother does not tolerate
Lateness, so it's 11:55 and I'm drunk
Running and wanting to
Stop because my feet are
Sore, but
I know if I'm late home I will miss a
Weekend of you, so when I run
With each footstep into gravel,
I think of the kisses
You put on my cheek, and
Run even faster,
Knowing I can't take another day
Without your gentle cheek
Kisses