I can’t stare into your eyes. They’re glossy with intent of the unknown. If I continue to stare them extensive and profound, you will notice the intense feelings I have and in that single moment you will possess me. You observed me as I was out in the open hiding my face away from the dark mask with long fluttering lashes. Again, you were able to see one of my many downfalls on being methodical. But you named it chemistry.
You say I’m interesting rather than compliment me from a generic style you know I don’t enjoy those; you say I’m a beautiful person more so, than a lotus if she were to be human. And you know when I grab a hold of your muscular beef arm with my strong grip of attack and how you never hesitated to latch on me with a focus strike to let me know you know I know an attractive clue of what I’m up to.
I want to have you badly and I cannot gaze you in the face because you are an expert within the same place. You want me too, probably more so, but you’re reserved and patient unlike me. So how am I to imitate your sexual repose and pace? Yet I watch you fidget in my presence and play it off cool and composed as I leer at a lengthy distance like a tiger waiting to hunt for fun.
But you’re anything but still, and anything but rude. I’m everything unruffled should be but I’m a master in breaking rules and creating waves, dramatically vulgar and assertively edgy. It’s why tonight I informed you how strong my tension is and I laid it on the table for you to make your next move.
So a month in, why haven’t we progressed?