I have a thing about thighs.
They just seem to catch my eye
as you walk by and I strike up
an inadequate conversation
as a disguise. As I fantasize.
Not like that;
I just think you’re beautiful.
You’re a pleasant surprise
kind of like a downpour of rain
in the middle of July
but more like a sunrise
in a burning orange sky.
I know I sound like a cliché
and a complete ass right now but
it’s these things that come to mind.
Basically, I can’t keep my eyes
off of you. And I need to.
My head is spinning anti-clockwise
planning sexy rendezvous’.
So, walk over here, won’t you?
Mrs extra skin-tight skinny jeans
in a preferred risqué black-not-blue.
Put me out of my misery, won’t you?
If I asked you for a drink tonight,
you’d say ‘no’ wouldn’t you?
Maybe I make you nervous
with the way I fixate on things.
But I am just a passionate person.
That is one beautiful thing about me.
make a bed by my side and lie
as if the stars have been perfectly aligned.
We can be the stars of our own show.
No audience. Just a spotlight and us,
dancing to music only we can hear,
kissing goodbye to another beautiful night
to greet another beautiful morning.
Sexy thighs do all the talking.