Twirled

You sit there twirling your hair around your finger.
My mind traces the hem of your dress hoping to see more.
I think I could cum just watching you rise to change which foot you tuck under you as you sit back down.

Does he have any idea what you’re thinking.
Does it show that I do.

Where do I allow my eyes, better yet, where do you allow them.
Why is it that every time you walk behind my chair you manage somehow to rub into my arm.
Is it just my imagination or wishful thinking.
Be it one or the other, it is true, every time.

You do know we would be wrong, you have to know that.
I know it and yet it seems destined that something happen.
Which will it be.
A couple of months of thinking we have them all fooled.
Or like missing persons we just disappear.

Why when we both know it could never last are we so willing to just do this.
Why don’t you just leave him or I her.
Are we so cowardly that we are willing to tear it all down rather then face the truth.

Can we spin the truth so easily and what of us.
Are we just pawns in our delusion.