love me, love me, baby

this girl i want,....i don't know if she wants me too...yet,
i don't really have the courage to find out, hell i don't even know her name, or what she looks like like
even when i am not sure she exists,
i just know that...
she makes my heart flutter,
when she smiles like that,
as if i am the cleverest person in the room,
when sh knows for sure that,
i am the most socially inept duck in the friggin pond,

this girl i like,has the sharpest wit,
meets me par for par, keeps up with my fluency in sarcasm, and thinly veiled insults at everything that is not her...and perhaps her at times,
doesn't back down this one, when am out for blood, and the only way i know how to get that is by verbal shredding...she is so dainty, so soft...you would think she would be afraid
we go on and on,
leaves me to wonder how else i can use that..
wonder how well she gives orders...in the dark, 

do not judge me...it would be a lie if i declared that i haven't thought of her in one of my button down shirts...making that cup of coffee, knowing what we did last night...what she did

she is the type who  makes me blush across a candlelit table,
winks at me over her wine glass..
plays footsie with me beneath the table...
all smooth silk stockings and whatnot,
making it hard for me to hold polite conversations with friends
making me want her against the bathroom wall, her legs around my waist, her hot breath in my ear
as she comes undone, apart, around my fingers

but she also holds my hand when no one is watching, giggles in mischief when she copes a grope on a queue at a coffee shop
and points and whispers with me at the abominable fashion tastes, of that girl...and good Lord, where did she get off wearing those pants
she is a keeper no?

what? not yet convinced? i don't care...am just letting you know..

what this girl does to me.. has me eating,
from the palm of her hand...
the hand she lets me hold,
the hand that reaches out across the be to hold on to after the filthy things said hand has done

when she wakes me up with kisses,
and sighs,
moans,
groans,
demands,
begging...
more..please...more

then she rushes off to take over the world...
in her skirt, heels..
in her coat, leggings, boots,
in her gardening gear,
in her messy bun and sweatpants..
it doesn't matter to her...or me...that she may not really be allowed in public in a skirt so short

no...that is not why...
not why i want her,
like her,
love her...? perhaps

its when she knows,
and doesn't mind,

that she is mine.