he's looking at me with these big doe eyes,
batting his lashes.
I'm thinking, he's like a girl.
He's in love with me.
Lately, seems like everyone
is in love with me.
Except, of course.
As I sit, book in hand,
I try to look him in the eye,
give him the kind of
treatment I would like.
He's not so bad.
He's just not.
And I'm not sure if I
weren't so haunted
I would like him.
There's got to be some kind
of route to bring us
back, I'm thinking.
No matter how many variations,
we all get to the same outcome.
No comments:
Post a Comment