so without me you'll be fine right?
A moral dilemma of so many colors...
this is what I wanted right? His attention, his eyes burning holes through my red chiffon shirt.
"I tied with your hero!" Matt tells me proudly.
ha, my hero. The man who could talk the devil into announcing a day of ice skating in hell, whom I adore so dearly. 12 years my senior.
My hero who is hungrily nibbling on my neck in between pieces, asking questions. I'm giving the right answers. Because I'm too nervous not to.
Am I embarrassed? he asks, why yes, I'm blushing right? I wouldn't be able to tell him that I sat in my car and re did my lipstick three times before coming in because I was SO nervous, because I look up to you. Because I adore you. Because I THOUGHT I wanted your attention.
But of course, don't get your hopes up for anything too serious beautiful, I've got a woman waiting for me at home, and a daughter. Right, funny thing, if there was common law in this state she might as well be your wife right?
And I was getting worried because I had grown too fond of someone ten years older than me, who I would never have the balls to proposition, let alone say anything suggestive, or try anything out of sheer RESPECT. He's still wonderful. . .
And you, you want to keep this covert, keep this fun, keep this feeling only in your fingertips, and how baddly you want to get off these fashionable ripped jeans.
How stupid can I be? How stupid can I get? Is this where I draw the line, will I not answer when he calls with his smoker's voice crooning in my ear? I rolled the windows down and sang Blue in the Face with my windows down because I still have his cologne wafting off of me, and I kind of liked it,
But oh sugar, don't get your hopes up for anything, I could never take you seriously. What have I come to look up to?
Garuanteed even if I wore a turtle neck next month when I spoke someone would be trying to sneak a glance down my shirt, I hate this life, even when I'm feeling unattractive, and I BEG for the attention you give me so readily...I don't really want this. I don't want to be the down fall, the home wrecker who leaves red lipstick marks on everything. I'm more trouble than I want to get into, so I PRAY that MY HERO, never calls.
this is what I wanted right? His attention, his eyes burning holes through my red chiffon shirt.
"I tied with your hero!" Matt tells me proudly.
ha, my hero. The man who could talk the devil into announcing a day of ice skating in hell, whom I adore so dearly. 12 years my senior.
My hero who is hungrily nibbling on my neck in between pieces, asking questions. I'm giving the right answers. Because I'm too nervous not to.
Am I embarrassed? he asks, why yes, I'm blushing right? I wouldn't be able to tell him that I sat in my car and re did my lipstick three times before coming in because I was SO nervous, because I look up to you. Because I adore you. Because I THOUGHT I wanted your attention.
But of course, don't get your hopes up for anything too serious beautiful, I've got a woman waiting for me at home, and a daughter. Right, funny thing, if there was common law in this state she might as well be your wife right?
And I was getting worried because I had grown too fond of someone ten years older than me, who I would never have the balls to proposition, let alone say anything suggestive, or try anything out of sheer RESPECT. He's still wonderful. . .
And you, you want to keep this covert, keep this fun, keep this feeling only in your fingertips, and how baddly you want to get off these fashionable ripped jeans.
How stupid can I be? How stupid can I get? Is this where I draw the line, will I not answer when he calls with his smoker's voice crooning in my ear? I rolled the windows down and sang Blue in the Face with my windows down because I still have his cologne wafting off of me, and I kind of liked it,
But oh sugar, don't get your hopes up for anything, I could never take you seriously. What have I come to look up to?
Garuanteed even if I wore a turtle neck next month when I spoke someone would be trying to sneak a glance down my shirt, I hate this life, even when I'm feeling unattractive, and I BEG for the attention you give me so readily...I don't really want this. I don't want to be the down fall, the home wrecker who leaves red lipstick marks on everything. I'm more trouble than I want to get into, so I PRAY that MY HERO, never calls.