Girls girls girls girls, why are you so magnetic? What is it that shoves me and you together, regardless of feelings or convenience or rationality? Where does your power come from, that I'm so enchanted, so enamored of our interactions? The magic of pulses throbbing together, eye contact and skin-to-skin electricity, throwing caution to the winds, and making fools of us all.
It's like a chess game going on all around me, churning calculations, learning from mistakes, bending the will, and making the move, withdrawing and staring in eager concentration waiting for the next turn. But every piece looks like me. All I can see when I look at you is warped reflections of myself. Smiling hair-preening eye-batting conch-shell reflections, mocking the loneliness of being human.
We all just want connections. To get close. To get inside. What we have now is a paltry substitute for interspective. But god save us all, it's what we've got, so let's indulge.
There is only me. And underneath that, there's the consciousness that recognizes the me. Everything else is a shade of my perception.
But what a pretty shade, girl. You get one kiss...