we laid on our backs and stared at the ceiling, messed with your slacks, but ended up just holding your hand. the rain will remain, the tv was telling a drip of the drain as your legs lifted brilliantly bent and fall to resting on the ottoman. so we turned off the tube and we crawled to your room, leaving discarded clothes in our wake and we both had some fun, though i twice bit my tongue, and it lasted too long for my taste, and there's this nagging suspicion that won't leave me alone tonight. it's just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right.

alyssa, 18. fm fs users online