His card came with a multiple choice
His last name and the sound of his voice
Saying ‘come with me’
And then he stood over me
My eyes raise to fix on his own
Half awake and rubbed into focus
But I see
And I’m ready
‘Cause we’re sitting as we are
No need to be false
Majestic in our glory
And endearing in our faults
I’ve many
I’ve many
Like my dramatised reactions only when its small
Gasping at the sound of wind closing the door
Like my towel on your rail that finds its way onto your bed
Like the fact I’m always putting stupid songs into your head
Like my tendency to spill and get chocolate everywhere
On your many jumpers that happen to disappear
Like the flit of my emotion and the flail of my career
Knotted together and sleeping sound amidst my fears
Like the fact that I view myself as a project
Like the millions of typos in my texts
Like my failure to indicate or free the handle bars
Like the Taylor that haunts me ‘cause I never learnt guitar
Like how I make you, when winter stands
Surrender your body to my cold hands
My cold Hands
My cold hands
My cold hands
My cold hands
Like my cold hands
My cold hands
My cold hands
My cold hands