26, red lights, rough feet and welcoming smiles.
I see you for the first time, mesmerised too shy,
so I watch you from the table, you stand by idly playing those eyes.
We say goodbye and it doesn't catch me...
Until I'm back some how, my friends have all gone and I'm waiting,
that's when you strike me, I scratch my leg trying to ignore,
easily seduced honesty my sanctuary.
From then on I'm a mess,
old dreams and fictional fantasies,
I only have a name should I look for you?
Is this what my body wants?
Is this what my body wants or is this all in my head?
It's fear fiction I shouldn't look for you,
I saw your picture, sat and stared, caught between disbelief and prophecy.
should I look for you?
Was it pride that I kept my hands to myself? Was out of commitment? was it out of love? or was I just scared?