Books are immortal sons deifying their sires.

Plato

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The Blue Stare
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Your eyes,
The blue stare surrounds me.
They only make you stronger still.
 
Feeling this way
Won't get you anywhere.
 
Your hands,
They offer me to hold them.
Lips kiss,
They trick me into showing them.
But sure I want to, still.
 
I'm loud,
As far as I can tell.
Fast times, fast rides, fast cars
Could take me down
To the direction,
The reflection that you bring.
I've bee scared too long
To show you how I feel.