Sunday, November 23, 2008

Sunday.

I always liked the way that you couldn't ever tell me no,
you always had that crooked smile when I'd take control.
Brush your hand against my cheek and kiss me softly,
did you feel corrupted when I wouldn't let you off me?
Breathe hard and quick as you shiver against my chest,
could you see through me when I lied and whispered that you were the best?
Come to my bed and I'll tell you a story,
about a boy who should have, but just couldn't ignore me.
Did I live up to your dreams and your expectations, knowing it was me who gave it to you the first,
You should have picked a girl who was gentle with a sweet touch, one that could love and kiss without a seal of a curse.

4 comments:

Greg Voltaire said...

Well....

knowing it was me who gave it to you the first

Interesting.

I'm not mean, I'm just not nice. said...

Forget the the.

Greg Voltaire said...

I hope you didn't think it was a grammatical critique.

I'm not mean, I'm just not nice. said...

Indeed I did, but I didn't take it offensively or anything.