I have been told "It's not who you think about at 2:00 AM When you're lonely It's who you think about at 2:00 PM When you're busy" But I think about you constantly even when you're next to me and I wonder how it is I got so lucky for you to be this in love with me
It took me a while to realize, The blur of of your lines. Took me longer to see, What wasn't meant to be.
You say you're busy, Caught up in some bizarre frenzy, Have people waiting, And tasks piling, But each time you move away, I breathe heavily in dismay.
my rose colored glasses cannot censor the fear i feel in the presence of him. like a suspect, the lady-like lenses crack under pressure when his hand conveniently slips on a busy night. bustling, blinding, blending right into the blur are his hands guiding my anxieties and insecurities through the roof as he grants himself permission to lust my body the way no one has ever done before. and i feel the foriegn touch unwelcome on my adolescent hips. but still i stand with a padlock over my trembling lips.
