The Confessional

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a little kid in a woman's body

Do you know what it means to have the itch factor?

To be so darn desirable, you create an itch within others

One that can only be fixed when beneath the covers

So I salute you siren

For making a puddle out of my brain

And turning me into your play thing

A skirt you can flirt with on gray days

I imagine riding backside in an old jeep

With the top down

Tapping on your head, making beats

Staring at the stars

Calling you daddy

And you call me buddy

As you take me around the town

And by the evening, I'll change into a gown

Do you care about my dreams anymore?

Do you care about what I need anymore?

Because there are many things I want for us

I suppose I have plenty thoughts of us.

Author's Note

A girl can dream, can't she?