don't think i didn't notice your fingers playing with that little string laced round my ankle. a little bit bound to you, mistress in waiting. i am one who waits and i enjoy it greatly waiting on your love. there's something about the way a curious boy pays full attention to whatever is under his tongue or fingers, the way he will play, give himself the chance to really feel her all out, get all up in her, binding her body to his body and his love, separate but still whole. something about this feeling makes me swollen: an invisible meaning, when you touch a place on me that is yours. (and yes, we know it) what is this about? you asked. it's intelligence. your eyes see my eyes. your heart sees my heart. your smart sees my smart, fully: your body loves mine. don't think i didn't notice your fingers playing with that little string. like you, i notice most things. your intelligence sets my heart on fire.