He catches me in a glimpse of moonlight,
exposing me like some nightstalker
elbow deep in the cookie jar,
a satisfied smile on my lips.
Our eyes lock,
peek-a-boo,
I caught you!
Oh me!
Crimson is the color
hot, bright, but
I can't seem to peel my eyes away.
Enamored with soft shadow on cheek,
slight upturn of lips,
wrinkles of pleasure curling around
dark, luscious eyes...
So he sees, so he knows.
So what?
I am the fool,
hoping for unattainable love in the face of obvious lust.
I wink, and he laughs.
Oh boy,
catch me if you can.
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talk your smack.