She had tattoos on both of her ankles -
She was a party girl.
Every way I waited, just to see her passing,
Caught her in conversation once or twice.
Her hair was naturally curly - gorgeous, of course,
But sometimes she made it straight.
God, she looked good when it was straight.
But she didn't know who I was,
Not beyond a name. Not beyond my face.
I was plastered to that bike shop,
Part of the scenery, just part of her walk home.
That was it, that was all I ever was.
But I loved the tattoos on both of her ankles,
I loved her party girl stories.
I loved how easily it came to her, thoughts, phrases,
Jokes. She always laughed, and I could tell
She always had. She was one of those people
That makes everyone laugh. She made me laugh,
And I had nothing to offer in return.
But she didn't expect anything from the scenery.
A small, semi-daily stop on her way home.
She didn't expect to fall in love, and she didn't.
And somehow, that disappointed me.

I just wanted to feel her, to become a part of her
Like the tattoos on her ankles.