you're so nonchalant
it's almost
almost but not quite
calculated
so self-assured
it approaches arrogance
and stops just short of asshole
you're so fucking hot
you don't sit
you drape
you don't stand
you present
you don't walk
you stroll
and i can't stop looking at you
and i can't help thinking of
words like
languid
sybaritic
lustful
fetish
i keep in my pocket
a bit tattered
and fingerprinted
from constant handling
because i touch you
with my imagination
all the time
i don't want to meet you
i don't want to talk to you
because a thousand words (or one) have
brought ruin to perfect pictures
and felled ivory towers
and i'm not willing
to let even one
unfortunate word fall from your lips
and ruin my reason
to come to work everyday

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others