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From the drivers seat I could scarcely eye the street |
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Your skin was bathed in amber light |
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And rain streaks |
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And for the remainder of the ride |
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You slept silent beside |
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From cradled heart-shaped cheeks |
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And legs crossed at the knee |
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I turned 22 and wrapped in tangled sheets with you |
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On the unfamiliar floors |
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Of people that you knew |
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Now we move far and out of touch |
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Kill pleasantries in such |
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And truth be told, I think of you much too much |
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And once I whispered soft discreet, as you lay beside asleep |
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Your mouth agape and sweet |
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With bookends on your knees |
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And with pressed palms against my eyes |
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I still see you on that drive |
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Your face bathed in amber light |
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As you slept silent beside |
