scares the shit out of me.


your fingers lazily trace patterns
around mine & while your eyes
should be concentrating on
the road ahead they're staring
right back into mine & while
your lips should be forming words
they're (surprisesurprise) pressed
right up against mine; baby,
your car might not have any acceleration
in it but my heart still does.

(you're going to kill me someday.)

a/n: 3 November 2009