I have a bad feeling about my unsure feelings for you. I know you can feel it; by the way your gaze wanders as I sip my drink. You’re already 10 deep and I like to watch as your thoughts emerge from your face, squirming like cold feet under the blanket of your complexion. I like to watch as your inhibitions melt away, falling to the floor only to find somber emptiness and the company of cigarette butts and bottle caps. I’ve seen you before, and I know it was you by the way your expression changes when no ones looking. By the way I can hear you shaking when you laugh. I’d be lying if I told you I’d never toyed with these ideas or preyed on such misplaced desires. I can’t lie to you and I can’t lie next to but you know I’d do either if you let me. Because I’m slowly filling up with an embarrassed passion and frustrated when I try to penetrate you with my stare from across hot rooms through nameless guests at faceless parties. The toxic taste in my mouth warns me that its dangerous but I shamelessly make excuses for y relapse. Two steps forward, three steps back. Your smile speaks of a suffocated curiosity and it’s good to know that you don’t always do what your supposed to. It’s amusing to watch your uncertainty, you’re subtle rebellion. I want to love you, I want to fuck you I want to make you cry. I want to touch you I want to be you, I want to see my naked reflection in the darkness of your eyes. Dizzy thinking of what could be I patronize decaying ideals and chip away at an already crumbling belief. Just know that I’m everything she promised and take that with you where we part ways and drink away hazardous ideas. Returning to our respective beds and sleepy lovers, only to tell ourselves there’s nothing wrong with just looking.

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