My head falls deep into
Her shoulders, gently,
As she would not need to nudge.
My Arm finds its place around her back,
Stalking in good terms,
I lean and feel receptive touch.
I feel as though
My approach was out of place.
My hand throttles back, firmly, But in fluid grace.
I put it out in winter soft,
That she might not resort to sob.
I prepare to leave my seat as if told,
Remarking her that it was out of love
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
My head falls deep into
Her shoulders, gently,
As she would not need to nudge.
My Arm finds its place around her back,
Stalking in good terms,
I lean and feel receptive touch.
I feel as though
My approach was out of place.
My hand throttles back, firmly, But in fluid grace.
I put it out in winter soft,
That she might not resort to sob.
I prepare to leave my seat as if told,
Remarking her that it was out of love
Do you remember that cliche scene in movies when a guy asks a girl to watch a movie, and when they sit together, the camera focuses on the guy as he attempts to make "the first move" and puts his arm around the back of the girl's seat...and he fails
-this is pretty much what the poem's all about
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