"I'm not trying to go to bed with you, I just wanna make out in my car.
and though I'm dying to fall in love with you, I just wanna make out in my car."
-Sufjan Stevens & Moses Sumney
the wind plays with your hair
my fingers coil in jealousy
bittersweet juice dripping from your lips
my mouth waters
there might be a sun somewhere but you shine brighter
you say you turn people into poetry
that's why your poems are so human
but after you've committed that crime
you can never change them back
they're eternal prisoners of your pages
would it be a sin if I call your paper-prisons my paradise
I say there are better things to do
than turning yourself into a walking diary for a stranger
and we have so little time to spare, for
life doesn't wait the way humans do
maybe that's why I feel like I'm swimming in the Himalayan streams when I'm with you
the radio plays a song whose words get lost in the wind
your eyes dance between me and things that aren't me
there is a certain pride in knowing
how much your eyes desire to make me the only sight they see
is this why I keep calling for you, reaching out for you
maybe it is better to learn someone before you love them
but you look so divine in this yellow light
moulded from a shooting star, you are
euphoria in disguise
burn me with your touch, my sweet; my skin is freezing cold
life is but happy moments and the pauses in between
I'll trade you my happy moments for your poems
let your notebook preserve a happy part of me
I don't know if I can beautify my ache for you
all I know is we are meant to be a story without an epilogue
that you won't be with me behind the picket white fence
that when I walk down the aisle I won't see you
people like us aren't liked, my sweet
by those who stand in manicured lawns and let their secrets die
they think there is something so sordid about me and you
maybe because we dare to put vehemence before virtue
but what use is loving someone if you give them your pride
why must I worry about our destination when I'm just here for the ride
