There were so many other things you were paying attention to.
The corn dogs at a corner, the acrobatic tricks across the ferris wheel.
Your arm around her waist.
I made sure to trail behind the others.
I suppose for me it felt better to stay behind and be oblivious to what
everyone was laughing about.
I wasn't having a good time, I was so ******* miserable.
Every time I looked forward I saw your curves and I caught myself staring too often.
I kept thinking that if I had been a little bolder perhaps it'd have been me holding your hand. I kept wondering why you were being so distant when not too long ago we were exchanging glances from across the room that forced both of our mouths into crooked smiles.
God how I wondered what your lips tasted like when you'd smile like that.
Why are you playing such a cruel game of darts?
Despite the ache I felt with every caress you gave another; you still had the gaul to ask me to hold your hand and, foolishly, I extended my arm.
Though you let go so quickly, and sure enough you were next to her again.
Far in front of me while I tread behind the group, plundering in that familiar feeling of being within and without.
**** I'm staring at your *** again.