odd rough rough draft.

I wonder


Are my intentions
written clearly
on my face?

am I as
out of control
as I feel?

Do you know
how hard
I'm trying
not
to run my hands
up
your thighs?

despite
knowing,
I'm just an
accessable replacement
for someone
you know
you can't
have.

despite
knowing,
I have no
capability
of letting myself
love someone
anyway.

so far,
those
compelling reasons
haven't kept
my eyes from tracing
the contours
of your body,
or my hands from twitching
wanting to follow,

constantly
asking myself
what if?