When I first met him I thought: I'm trying to befriend the killer.
I asked him his name and his voice planted icicles
And I thought: Faded/Understated... This is my soon to be
Mr. Man-boy who's an array of conflicting emotions:
Beauty in the unmasked inhibition,
But when he wants to sing the day away
sing the day down
His voice is cracked within his smile.

And I knew nothing about him (other than what
infatuation at first sight would allow),
But I went home with my body twirling around
my fingers curling around/the knots in my hair.
I felt like I was eight years old—Glitter dipped and Honey dewed—
Remembering the butterflies I thought I lost in second grade.

Ridiculous was the grin permanently attached to my face,
As was the blue flowers I hunted for that could do justice the shade of
his eyes.

A/N: People are attracted to the mystery, to the things that seem just a little too off to be right, so of course they have to be.