October 20, 2011

almost perfect

© CNirvana

so I concede to ride in the back seat, hands crossed neatly in my lap
lazily laid back 
with the wind of the night air blowing the delicate curl past my ear

it feels good
brushing against my cheek
tickling the nape of my neck 
those delicate tendrils

I miss my fingers in your hair

and as the doctor tells me so
I lock myself in the bathroom,
whisper only to those that can hear
and bid the world goodnight

the only one I need will
never leave
perfect still doesn't exist