And eventually I will forget the nights in your car
The way we fogged up the glass
Breathing but not
The way I was afraid to step outside the door
Because the dirt might tell the tale
But your eyes do tell the story
The cliche of piercing blue
Knowing too much of me
And I, not enough of you
Your freckles
I traced the outline
And the curls of your hair that you wear so sharply these days
We hardly make eye contact
Because poetry is the best medicine. (: