Running Out of Titles, Here.

Nothing comes quite as easy
as turning up the music up, for once.
I can be that escape artist,
and get lost in my thoughts.

But the melodies make me think,
of a thousand memories I want to make.
The sounds roll through and leave me
thinking about what I could give, what I could take.

If my bangs weren't always in my eyes,
maybe I'd like to look into yours.
If my hands didn't shake when I tried,
Hell, I'd even pick you flowers.

You keep me up at night,
my head swimming in a sea of wishes.
I lay under the blankets and beg to dream
about those intoxicating kisses.