I looked at you through the corner of my eye.
Cataloging your faults, and trying to see if you had figured out mine.
Letting the miles pass us by.
I don't like the way your mouth sits,
and I hope you don't mind all the blemishes I posses.
When you touched me for the first time
I didn't feel that electric emotional shift I'd been hoping for.
That's too much pressure I've concluded to put in one moment,
let alone another man.
Because I did find comfort in our conversation,
the way the words just escaped me.
I love the idea of being the person I want,
and not the one I was in front of you.
Maybe your mouth has to be positioned a little less then perfect,
in order to make your words more sincere.
Maybe love doesn't have to begin with all the dynamics of a great love story to be real.
I don't want a wildfire romance that will burn out soon.
I'd rather have a relationship that can weather any storm with passion so true.
We ended the drive, recapped the night,
and laughed at the awkward silence before saying goodnight.
As I drove off I wondered could this be the beginning of something worthwhile...