I'm still thinking
about you tonight.
Your hands, your voice,
the way you held me tight.
I think I named this book
after that nice shirt I saw you in.
And ever since then I've been wanting
to get wrapped up in your skin.
How many poems does it take
for a girl to forget
the curve of your smile
and your tall silhouette?
April has turned to May;
and May, to June.
Still with steady hopes
I'll be over you soon.
