Lamp posts and real hoes

I watch her and I think I want her. 

Lesbian. Gay. 

She looks so good and she catches my eye.

Maybe it's the reason: I love the smell of cologne. 

My body shower scented man. 

I sometimes use my brothers deodorant; his cologne smells like you.

Try and smell me now, won't you? 

Find me and label me. 

HA.

I don't always do these things. Not every day. Only the days I'm missing him. 

I'm not so "gay" after all. 

Never kissed a girl. I could if I was drunk. But she'd still have to be gorgeous and have long hair with that crisp caramel color. I like to see a sexy body. I'm insecure. So insecure that you wouldn't believe; I still eat. 

I want that body of hers.

That's why I wonder sometimes. 

I want what she has and what I'm too weak to become.

Maybe I'm wrong. And maybe the moon told me to move on. I asked the sun about the Big Bang. The crater that everyone thinks might be cheese... Yeah. He told me that that theory is just a sleaze. Just like that slut.

Just like that slut I think I want to be. Girl trust me. Spread your wings and your heart. Rip open that beauty and art. 

I'm me and that's fine. The moon told me reflecting is hard. Being my own sun and stars is better than being mistaken as a street light.