Haircut

I saw your haircut in a storefront: The choppy sides and perfect bangs. I loved the way it framed the model's cheekbones, The blank expression on her face. So I went inside and tried to buy it, But I got told it's not for sale. I got embarrassed and I decked the sales clerk. I stole the wig and ran like hell. And I figured I would come and show you, So I kept running towards your house; Then I remembered I don't have your address (At least not the one you live at now). So I hurriedd home to get collected, To let the red flush from my face. I took out my notebook and I sketched you smiling. I like to think of you that way. Then I put your haircut in my closet Next to your t-shirts and your cards. I turned the lights out and I sunk in, slowly, Counting sheep and breathing hard. But when it comes it's way too quickly, And it busts apart the faith I've grown: See, I can't stop myself from hurting you, So I guess I won't.