he's my baby
no, it wasn't just good he studies my hands, every line on my fingers, smoothing over the bumps of my palm--all this when he should be looking at the road and when we were naked and wet in the shower he soaped my leg like he was bathing someone he wasn't allowed to touch when he collapsed his face in my chest and his eyes were wet and his stomach turned and his head was light he still pulled down my shirt over my back, reflexively, unassumingly he doesn't know my body and he doesn't know why but there's an awe in his eyes that makes me feel like turning around and looking for some holy spotlight and i know he's a douchebag when it comes to conversation but do you know how he holds a child? i dont want to love him i pretend to be rational, i theorize. he's probably in the closet and he doesn't know the basics of intimacy. i could write volumes about how he's wrong for me. i can't help it, i'm stuck, and no matter how much i try i know i won't be unstuck i know he's the one i'll wake up beside |