list text hereRed hair, the reddest or reds
A throwback from the Emerald Isle
Blue jeans painted over porcelain skin
She flirts with me to the point that it hurts
We’re thick as thieves
But still strangers in the night
Soon she’ll be gone just like the rest
Her smile will become an apparition
It’ll haunt me until I forget
I’ll hear her voice until the sun refuses to rise
I’ll see her eyes in every late night sky
I’ll weep on the inside when I remember
Spitting image of her mother
She’ll age like a Cheval Blanc
I’ll spend nights thinking of the vintage
An opportunity is all I ask
Perhaps just a taste
Just a tug on that long red hair
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