He brought flowers to her door
Sat sweating in the kitchen
With her father
She walked in and took his breath
Pretty, flowy, peachy dress
Have her home by eleven, boy
Burgers and shakes
Then off to the show
In the dark, holding hands
He never remembered
What movie they saw
That memory was blown away
He only remembered
She tasted like salted caramel,
Buttered popcorn, and cherry lip gloss.
A/N: I'm not quite sure where this came from, or why it's from the boy's point of view (well, sort of). Just a story that was in my head, I guess.
YOU ARE READING
All the Small Things
PoetryThis is where all my poems will live. This is where nightmares and dreams begin. Edit on January 10, 2014: 4 more poems to go, and then this book will be ended. Edit on February 21, 2014: The 50th poem is up. This book is complete.
