Here we are again.
Lying on my side,
You running your nonexistant nails
Down the curves of my bare back.
"I can't tell what you're writing."
"I'm not writing, stupid.
I'm drawing."
And I lay there
Reveling for 10 minutes,
Not at the comfort of being touched,
But because it's your fingertips
Tracing your silly doddles
Across my bare skin.
I'm not sure how we got here.
From crab rangoons and redbull,
To sushi and back scratches;
From best friends to this,
This thing so out of touch
With any sensical title.
I'm too much of a puss
To even begin to act like I notice,
To show that I'm more aware than I seem.
Time for a new distraction.
"Meet Virginia" is on, time to tease you.