thoughts running through my head

...of you

it ain’t a west side story; no need for intimate romance
not taking a chance, can't even afford a glance.

i’m intrigued by the way you move
eyes follow you from room to room but
lust
doesn’t keep you.
i guess you just got it like that

lust ain’t lacking here.
being a woman provokes glares, stares,
glinting eyes like wolves seeking to gnaw on a prize,
rip apart my flesh and leave scraps behind
but you don’t look at the challenge in my eyes
or the shape of my *******
(though they’re not hard to miss)
and i sometimes wish you would
because then i’d be one step closer to knowing

what’s behind the words your recite, the career you’re pursuing
oh you spit too?? you must be joking
the rhymes you’ve inspired in the margins of my mind
probably wouldn’t be worth half your time

and don’t tell me twice. i’m aware that i see you through rose-colored glasses that deceive my eyes
my vision is already deceptive as it is
always looking for something that usually ain’t there
aggrandizing your every move
and barely knowing you

doesn’t help that my inferiority complex be shaking the table
the devil on my shoulder whispering poison in my ear
‘you’re wack. in a sea full of broads, there’s nothing that makes you stand apart. keep your head down and don’t play the odds.’
‘you’re destined to lose.’

the devil, she’s cruel. but the angel is too
she’ll visit out of the blue and croon sweet nothings that fill me with fire.
‘you’re ****, you’re smart. your ambition is a powerhouse. what you carry is commodity, it’s effervescent. from what utters out your lips, the treasure between your thighs; let me not start on what’s behind those eyes. what a mind. he should be so lucky.’
i only dislike her because she’s too quiet.

the angel is always right, but the devil is louder. as they bicker, i stare at the ceiling and wonder whether my projections of mediocrity and *** appeal
are misdirections from what’s real
and issues that pervade my subconscious.

****. what was i saying?
right. you’re so fine. dare i compare you to wine?
dare i acknowledge the intoxicating quality of your smile? dare i ask for a sip from your chalice?

wouldn’t mind a taste of what you’re not flaunting.
(plus, i need a distraction, from the haunting thoughts
adulthood has failed to give me certainty of self.)

i like that you move slow. you keep the world waiting, no rush
a contrast to my racing heart as i try to beat all the odds
you’re the main attraction, built for my satisfaction.

your vocabulary rivals mine. i could argue with you all night
verbal sparring, and hopefully more. i’ll take you to war if you get to know me,
feel the smooth drag of your teeth on my skin. don’t let me win
the fight is all of the fun.
put it all in the air,
i want all the smoke right here

you’re beauty to me. but if I ever got close enough
to learn your flows, share a smoke,
see your smile from up close...
would you still be so pretty?