Unraveled by Routine

I’m not supposed to think about you.

Not like this.

But I do.

While I’m grading papers,

while making copies,

sitting at my desk creating assignments.

I find myself thinking about you-

About the way you look at me,

How your gaze brings heat between my thighs,

How your voice slides into me, sweet and aching.

I think about the way your strong arms wrap around me when you hug me.

I wonder if I cross your mind too,

How often,

And why.

I think about what you’d do if it was just you, me, and a quiet room-

The way your hands might explore my body, slow at first, then greedy,

the way you’d finally show me what I truly do to you.

I’m not supposed to want you.

Not like this.

But I do.

Between classes,

during my lunch break,

deep inside me.

I search for excuses,

reasons to get you to come to my room.

Although your face between my thighs

while I’m gripping on my desk relieving my stress is not an option,

just hearing you talk unravels me too.

I’m not supposed to crave your touch.

Not like this.

But I do.

The way your hands would part me, slow and sure,

How your fingers would caress my petals until my flower drips sweet nectar,

how you’d salivate and ache over the idea of licking me clean while I shake and cling onto you.

I’m not supposed to think about you.

Not like this.

Not at 2am.

But I do.