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.

Busy!
A frivolous concept meaning I don't have time for you.
But what happens when that time runs out?
You wake up alone
Wondering where all that time went.
Regret!
That is what "busy" means!

I'm lost
In a crowd and busy city
Even after trying very harder.
Thousands of people around me,
But, I know nobody.
They don't pause, they don't smile-
Every moment is for today's or tomorrow's money.
Hundreds of buses around me
But, none takes me to home.
They are to pollute, they are for noise
I can't expect nothing more than that.
I'm lost
In a busy city world
Even after trying very harder.

Kept walking all alone
on busy streets,
in places where concrete
the soft rain meet.

Bright lights shine all around
with blinding beams,
the city seems so full
of empty dreams.

Cars often stacking up
in traffic lines,
a place where every man
peace never finds.

And still I'm walking down
these busy streets,
the city smiles at me
but never greets.