you looked at me.
 I was just dyed blonde
 and some-what real,
 to the place.

you touched me.
 you didn't know
 I was
 something
 some-what special.

you whispered to me.
 an ear is not the place
 to promise, my dear;
 sometimes hearing is slight
 and some-what mis-interpreted.

You love me.
 I return the pact,
 as it was new to me
 to some-what love normally.

You don't understand me.
 I can't help what I think,
 think you will leave;
 think you will hurt her;
 it's chemicals, baby,
 some-what god's fever.

You left me.
 I don't know answers,
 to your wounds, as I am
 some-what a left-over
 of a different sort;
 sort of a dogma of all-in,
 a queer revival
 of what is no more.

you,
 you deserve amazing feats,
 and walk with my love,
 as I some-what understand;
 a lucky girl,
 she will know:

whispers as sweet;
 and eyes of know;
 touch as warm;
 I will always love you.