It's okay if I'm not the girl of your dreams,
or the one you dance with at prom.
I just want to be the girl you think about twenty years from now,
while you're staring at your morning coffee,
wishing that you hadn't poured so much milk in
because now it's too creamy to resemble my dark brown eyes.
I just want to be the girl you think about twenty years from now,
while you're walking down the street,
and you're damned because the streaking flick of that girl's hair,
reminded you of my curls.
I just want to be the girl you think about twenty years from now,
while you're listening to music,
and you are in awe with the song,
because it jogs your memory back to my beating heart.
I just want to be the girl you think about twenty years from now,
while you're smoking,
and you wish you had puffed out a bigger smoke,
so it would appear like my misty fog in the winter cold.
