i can’t take your hand
when your eyes beg for my affection;
little red, i’d rather sit than stand
and say how i feel about you.

unconventiality doesn’t rock my feelings but
my thoughts and the world disagree-
little red, you’re not in my plan; i could almost…
but i can’t; i’m sorry.

the danger zone’s too tempting and i can’t help myself but
i’ve ignored it for years-
the swish of skirts blended with smudges of eyeliner mixed with tears;
elated and high with our secret and your temptations and i’ve never felt so alive in this life
as the touch of your skin wakes up my dead insides like the sharp blade of a knife;
me and you jumbled and mixed up together so wrong enough to make it right with
your fiery red hair caught in my dull brown and
your intoxicating smell of strawberries and the sea in summer and hairspray and rain
and you taste like chapstick meshed in pain…

we have an eternity of chances but
i’m setting fire to it all and
watch it slowly burn away
because i can’t let you stay.

i can’t let you come away
with me, little red;
but i promise i’d run away with you if i could;
i know it’s not what i should-
i couldn’t, i wouldn’t, i shouldn’t

let you into me
but maybe together is
where we should be.