Playthings

It doesn't matter what the hell I think,  
To touch you while I'm breathing down your neck.  
It doesn't matter if you want to strut,  
You know you love it and I don't forget.  
 
Approaching you is walking razor's edge,  
The times we don't connect are pretty rare.  
'Cause taking you at once is on my mind,  
And when you sulk I'm Johnny on the spot.  
 
I know when you think I'm not watching you,  
The way you stroke your mane before the mirror.  
I pull out all my toys that buzz & twitch  
And come up from behind to show you which.  
 
You turn to face me and you take your pick,  
As if regarding bouquets that I hold.  
The brazen in you turns me inside-out,  
Delighting me with playthings of your own.
 
 
April 6 ( NaPoWriMo )