I hate coming up with titles..

You grin. I melt.
Your rough grip as you pull me in is enough to make me hot,
but it's the look in your eyes that makes me giddy.

You’re gone. I’m here.
Never too far away but your time, it's parceled out.
Valuable, in demand, not to be squandered.

You yank. I come running.
My leash while you're gone is the phone,
so much so that it's actually exhilarating to go without it for a day.

You and me.  Creatures of need.
Clinging on to something familiar, battered but getting better.
Or so we pretend, ignoring the band-aided bullet holes in our chests.

You whisper. I shine.
You speak soft, low; my emptiness feels different somehow.
I hold tight, try to drink in the feeling before you leave with it.

You work. I play.
Suddenly you're quiet, reserved. But nothing's wrong,
you tell me this as I feel you holding back.

You withdraw. I follow.
You play the wounded soul card. I salve you with pretty words,
while inside I roll my eyes and ache for a less fabricated exchange.

You need me. I need something different.
But not all the time. I need you, too...
but I want to see a different need from you.

You need me. I need something different. He needs me too.
But not all the time. I need you; I need something different, too...
You need my affection, my reassurance, you crave intense commitment.
He needs only to have fun, to get naked and feel skin against skin. So do I.

You withdraw. I follow. He keeps it light.
You play the wounded soul card. I salve you with pretty words,
while inside I roll my eyes and ache for his less fabricated conversation.
He flirts, makes me feel alive and just a little wild. Thrills something in me.

You work. I play. He wants to play too.
Suddenly you're quiet, reserved. But nothing's wrong,
you tell me this as I feel you holding back. Funny, he's saying something similar.
But of course he's speaking of my potential guilt; you're simply guilt tripping me.

You whisper. I shine. He is ignored.
You speak soft, low; my emptiness feels different somehow.
I hold tight, try to drink in the feeling before you leave with it.
I love this in you. He can't compete with this, knows it, and waits his turn.

You and me. Creatures of need. His needs are different.
We’re clinging onto something familiar, battered but getting better.
Or so we pretend, ignoring the band-aided bullet holes in our chests.
He does not cling; has his own wounds and deals with them. He leaves me to mine.

You yank. I come running. He cracks jokes.
My leash while you're gone is the phone,
so much so that it's actually exhilarating to go without for a day.
He demands no leash, no commitment. He and I are separate and free, simple and pure.

You’re gone. I’m here. He’s just down the road.
Never too far away but your time, it's parceled out.
Valuable, in demand, not to be squandered. He has his day off,
and a house just down the block. It’s even empty- his girl's busy too.

You grin. I melt. He’ll be around.
Your rough grip as you pull me in is enough to make me hot,
but it's the look in your eyes that makes me giddy. This doesn't happen enough,
the passion without a care or a worry, just enjoying each other. And... he'll be around.