Staring out of the car window
Seeing rain drops slipping away like sand
Reminds me of your hands
Soft, smooth, slippery
Surely a work of perfection
That needs no correction
Pale, chubby fingers, with clear nails
Running over my skin
Surely is the greatest sin
Green orbs of light
Staring me over with one of your "looks"
As if reading me like a book
Now your straight brace-ified teeth
Holds a shy smile, however white
And whenever you grin your face turns bright
And your messy black hair
Not a strand in place
Sometimes covers your face
And I swear I'm going to hell for the things that I secretly think...