She has a baby face
And a bad attitude
And I find I like that;
Want to squeeze her to see if
She's soft for it seems that she might be
Under my fingers--
Like a doll's, those pink cheeks that
Lie and say innocent things while her walk screams sin.
But she can't be posed, though I want to
Take her hands away from her hips and make her be quiet
Just so I can rip words from her mouth again,
Make them mine just like she
Couldn't become.
Not a small girl, but chest thrust out naturally without
Trying, though she seems to wants to hide them
Under layers of business suit.
I figure it's my bad karma ruining everything good.
She bites her lip when she types her resumé
And I want to be white rows of teeth, though
I proofread instead of bite;
Congratulate and stroke her ego, not her
Thighs.
She cursed in front of her boss today, says she's embarrassed,
But I don't buy it since her eyes shine mischief and her lips
Pull up in a smile as unapologetic as the jeans she thrust away
In favor of blazers and button-downs.
"I bought this one on sale" is her proud explanation.
Perhaps she thinks I like these navy stripes on her
Perfect Roundness.
But I'm thinking how much better she is without,
Just skin showing and the creased line streaming
Sinfually downward
From breasts tipping against each other.
Wonder if she's changed since then
If the lie became second nature and now she is
Those things she pretended to be.
She was never my own, though we made
Fine friends
Hugging after long separations, typical girly-squeals
And me just pressing into her body thinking unchaste
Thoughts,
Hardly a friend at all, but more like the lover she never
Knew she had or needed.