The Girl Who Needs to be Loved
It's a grey skirt
Hair tied tight and severe
A grey sweater too
Underneath a soft cushion
I could spend many nights
Against her skin
She lectured me on morality
Somebody else's, not my own
Black fuck-me boots
Scorn my liberal ideals
How can she really see the truth?
I don't tell her she's wrong
I can't say that to such a face
so I let old ideas spill from her youth
Stale still from her moist lips
I can't bring myself to open her mind
Is it indelicate of me to want to kiss her
When I can't tell the colour of her eyes?
We could never touch on any level
I am wide-open, things flow through me
She is closed, defending herself even from herself
So I smile and let her say things
And I imagine she does the same
She doesn't do it gently, she bites
I try to be tough, but the red marks show
I am as soft as she looks
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