I have my feet up on the dashboard as you drive down the expressway. The Beatles are singing on the radio and the sun is slowly setting in the clear, vast sky. You look
amazing in your aviator sunglasses and plain white tee. The one I remember waking up in last Friday. You have your arm out the window and the wind is running through your short cut mocha hair.
You smile as I sing along with George Harrison and chuckle when I sing off key. Sitting in my lap is a notebook. My sketchbook actually. You hate it when I draw you. But I couldn’t help it when I saw how inspiring you looked as we left the city limits. :)
Now I have my feet up on the dashboard of your Corvette, and I’m sketching your arm gently rested on the steering wheel. I smile thinking to myself that you have no idea I’m doing this. I look my window every so often pretending I’m drawling the mountains. You won’t have any idea. You won’t because I don’t look at you as much as I want to.
You told me this morning that we should take a road trip. When I asked where you said anywhere. For a second I looked at you as I laid in our bed. But then I just nodded my head and smiled. Because I’ll follow you anywhere.
You just stopped and got me icecream, and I know you hate sharing yours but I still threw mine out the window. You tell me you wont give me yours, and I turn and look away , like I always do.
Then suddenly, you grab my hand tight ; like you'd never let me go, and ask if I want a bite. I look up from my sketchbook at your puppy dog eyes I sigh and nod my head.
That was then.
Today you want your own time, I asked you if you were mine, and you couldn't help but grin.
I took my second last attempt to make you better, you snapped.
I took my last to sing for you, because Its that one thing I'm the most shy to do; and you kill that last one too.
But then No-one's frightened of playing it, and everyone's saying it.