I trace my fingers along the edge,
Painted pink and with a flick,
I undo the hook that clasps them together.
You watch my bra, fall and gather.
The French lace hugs my outline,
Sensually hugging each cheek.
Exposing the slightest curve that reaches to my thighs.
They’re most definitely deserving of a hi-five.
What are you going to do when I slip that top back on?
Say no, have to hear your woes.
Use my words to get your eyes off my draws.
Look into my soul,
See how amazing I am.
Fall in love with my mind.
Hear my heart beat,
Tell me I’m damn fine,
I’m the girl of your dreams.
Don’t get bored of my features,
Think my conversation is mundane.
Stop holding my hand cause you’re embarrassed,
But don’t fake it all the same.
I am not unjust,
I am not a need.
I do however have needs,
And if you can’t meet them,
That does not make me weak.
The strap of my bra no longer excites you,
The soft satin caressed between your fingers.
You want more,
You want everything I’m not.
Which is a shame,
Cause honey, you’ve failed to recognise,
That I am all of it and so much more.
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