Weight of Words

Waiver

She worked her day in complete spuddle.
The daze of the man who left with her an unsolved riddle.

She teased her mind thinking of his every curve she wanted to touch. Driving herself mad, why'd she want that so fucking much?

Fingertips trailing from her pale pink lips, down her neck, to her breast. If his hands touched her, what would his move be next.

Would he be passionate and torturously slow? Would he be dominating, rough and fast without so much as a hello?

What if he didn't want to touch her at all? What if she'd been so blinded by her own feelings that she had this all wrong?

Her hands fall to her sides as she glares at herself in the mirror. She's blaming herself for giving this too much time when things weren't very clear.

She grabs the rest of her bourbon drinking it straight. Talking herself into "I deserve it" to lessen her thought rate.

She starts removing her painted on face, her hazel eyes flared with more green than usual today.

She sighs and reaches for her phone.
She turns it off deciding she just wants to be left alone.

Day for drinking.