You ooze that good boy persona just a little too well,
And people whisper about how I am defiling you
But the pressure of your hand at the small of my back
Is enough to remind me that I really don't care.

And maybe I don't know if this will last two weeks
Two months
Or two years
Or maybe two lifetimes

The most selfish part of me hopes I never have to find out

And I'm still trying to keep ahold of my feelings,
          I'm better in writing, anyway
And just when I think I'm going to squelch it
          I'm better at writing, anyway
You stretch and just a strip of your skin shows,
Leaving me lost in the thought of your hips against mine, your lips against mine

          God, I'm awful at goodbyes

And you wonder why you're a distraction