I told her, I told me;
No more, she has set me free,
From these shackles locking me to the American Dream.
White picket fence and a man with his hand prized in gold,
And shin-level heads run amuck; carefree.
Yet here I am, green eyes take hold of me;
The type my sister likes.
She said so, when before she said no.
That isn't usually enough for me. Usually.
Fellow workers, a clap
a pat, a smile and glee.
All for me
and the boy with the eyes
full of mischief and the cheeks full of mirth,
shirt buttoned tight with no room to see,
that which he keeps hidden,
that which he should not be;
embarrassed for the way he breathes.
This time it is,
More than enough;
With his saints and his rings and his prayers and his love,
All for the girl perfect;
thought to be to a 'T',
Where she's damaged, still hopeless,
Needy but gruff.
'I guess you're okay', and yet breathes 'please stay'.
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About an atheist girl who loves her mormon boyfriend