It rests.
Sitting on my thigh, it is
Still, almost disinterested.
The film plays in front of us,
And as I glance right I see him watching.
I turn forward.
I try to watch too.
After all, he might want to talk about it later.
But even as I watch the screen,
All I see is his hand.
Still, almost disinterested.
Still, the most distracting touch I have ever felt.
The audience laughs.
I breathe out to disguise my oblivion.
His little finger twitches slightly.
My heart stops.
Sitting on my thigh, it is
Still, almost disinterested.
The film plays in front of us,
And as I glance right I see him watching.
I turn forward.
I try to watch too.
After all, he might want to talk about it later.
But even as I watch the screen,
All I see is his hand.
Still, almost disinterested.
Still, the most distracting touch I have ever felt.
The audience laughs.
I breathe out to disguise my oblivion.
His little finger twitches slightly.
My heart stops.
