salad days

I promise to be good and true. I will draw you a picture of the insides of me. Because the words I need just haven't been thought of yet. I want to be good to you. Can you possibly promise me that you will look at me like I am the first flower of spring, like I am a line you just read that knocked you down and you have to repeat it over just to make sure you read me correctly? And tell me that no one else can knock you down that way? And mostly that I will wake up and you'll still be here and not there. Tonight I am a girl with too many thoughts in her brain. So many firsts with you, I refuse to have any lasts.