Round and round

We were laying in bed, her head on my chest and than she says "te quiero mucho". I hug her tight and say nothing. After a couple of seconds of silence which seemed like an eternity, she says "don't confuse "te quiero" with "te amo". I nod my head and say "I understand" and than I say "Me too". I have no idea why I did not say anything for those few seconds. I wanted the confussion.
I draw a heart with my name in it in blue ink on her ass. She does not wash that part of her ass for a couple of days and that brings a huge smile to my face. She makes me want to make cheesy love songs cds.

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One day, in between the comings and the goings, the wild circles and the curvey straight lines. Sometime, in between the carousel rounds that you make in my life, without the benefit of cotton candy or caramel corn or corn on the cob and elephant ears and sweets that make one's teeth hurt and stomach do loopety loops on the roller coasters. After the ups and downs and the side to sides, the back and forths and the dirt in the air that just tastes like it should, the heat from the day that rests on shoulders and arms, the sweat that is between fingers as they clasp hands and hold on, because that's just how we are taught. To hold on. To be safe.
One day after the fun, after the excitement, after the everything while we hold hands and our fingers get slippery with sweat from holding too hard and you taste the dirt on my lips, and I taste the uncertainty on yours and you give me that look...

Would you take just a moment, just a few seconds, to explain to me why everything with you has to be so fleeting when it would be so easy for us to just hold on tighter, to keep it close, to make it stay?

Why?
Why can't I ever make you stay?

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Booze, sushi bar, boobs and short skirts - what better way to spend your night?
After 10 drinks and the best sushi, we decide to go to Barroco. It's 9:30 and everything on lower greenville is dead. We walk to "The Cave" and sit on the couch at one of the daskest corners. I straddle her and kiss her. She bites my lip as I give her a kiss. Why do kisses taste/feel so much better when you've been drinking? Drunk kissing is so much better than sex sometimes. My hand rests on her crotch and we come to the mutual conclusion that, perhaps, we should be heading home and to a bed or floor. Kissing is just so much better at times. You can't fake a kiss.

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There is no room for modesty when you are a liar.