Try as I may not to meditate
on your physique,
(after all, good girls don't do that.
I find my eyes wandering,
taking in your bronze skin,
strong and sure,
not quite as flat as it probably once was,
(I wonder how they would feel on my skin),
(looks good in jeans, but can't help but wonder
how it would look without them),
strong and muscular,
(I can only imagine the possibilities).
You stand with such confidence
and beside you I feel
my femininity burst into flame.
I find myself smiling,
brushing the hair from my eyes,
victim to my lustful thoughts,
thinking of the many times
I have been the recipient
of such lustful glances.
Now I know how it feels
to be the watcher.
No harm intended.