Even at work it is unsafe.

Men, who think they are slick, gazing like my bottom is a jelly donut.

Do you think I don’t see you staring?

Are you really so barbaric that you can’t keep from undressing me with your eyes?

Your coworker. Your friend. I’ve spent countless hours watching TV on your couch.

Is there something I’m missing? Do you think about more?
Because your gaze is telling me you do.


It started with your words.

Its like I covered myself in glue, each one stuck and felt a part of me.

I don’t know why but I knew I was supposed to know you, right from the start.

Different. It’s the only word I can attribute to this feeling you give me, but it does no justice.

I can’t look at you. I can’t look at you without this pain in my stomach, the kind I get when listening to a really great song.

You make me feel less and more at the same time. I’m being me and I can’t get enough of you.

Beautiful baby please don’t go away.