Bleached blond from black,
Your hair seems to be growing out now.
(Would you dye it blue next?)
Rock n roll is not so new,
But you make it look so much better.
(With that shirt you're wearing.)
Sooty smudges were somehow carefully applied
Under your avocado-colored eyes.
(I guess eyeliner's your thing.)
And black bits are left on your fingernails
Since most of your polish had gone bye-bye.
(Later will you put on some more?)
The labret below your lower lip
Completes the look and you're almost perfect.
(You've got everything under control.)
Smugly seizing the mic with your calloused hands,
You start to scream your lungs out.
(My pulse is beating to the tune.)
That husky harmony throbbing from your throat
Is probably from too much nicotine and weed.
(Your voice is whipped cream on top of sugar coats.)

Your gaze is falling upon mine,
Colliding as you continue to sing that piece of poetry.

Suddenly I start to wonder,
Are you singing that song
For me?
Hopeless romantic to nothing at all,
I think I've fallen in love.