She smiles, I smile;
and shit, what I love to think,
'I haven't felt this way in a while.'
Have a smoke, have two, then have a drink,
and we walked with hands-locked for miles.
Funny how a grin can have me on the brink
of madness; funny how happiness comes so easy
at times; funny how her mind can please me
so much more than firm breasts or a soft ass,
which she sports shyly at all times. She feeds me
love and drugs and hugs, whatever need be.
I'll mumble; I'm humble, but only in this game.
With her, I'll fumble, and bumble, happily unashamed.
And she's different; she loves Seattle and the rain;
so we sat for hours, watching the water down the drain.
She talks softly and picks at my brain
while I pick at hers; and I've never heard sweeter words
or felt a sweeter hurt than our goodbyes in the sun.
This is more than youth and what it means to be young.
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